Digimon: Down Under
by Tom from Down Under
Summary: The brave Australian digidestined have begun their quest to hunt down the infamous Shadow. But are they ready to face the common dangers of the Digital World? Criticism welcome.
1. Prologue

**Digimon: Down Under**

**Prologue**

Deep in the void that lies between the two worlds is a place that is shrouded in thousands of years of myth, legend, and mystery. This place is called the Hall of Destiny. For centuries, the being who resides in this hall, the one who watches over both worlds, has done nothing. Long ago She swore not to interfere with the lives of humans and, more recently, digimon. For over two thousand years the woman named the Forger of Destiny has lay silent and allowed the occupants of the Real and Digital Worlds to play out their own lives. But now activity rings in the Hall of Destiny once again. For She believes the Digital World faces a great enough peril for Her to break the oath she took.

1010101

The Forger gingerly placed the tiny purple amethyst in the very centre of the double twisted figure of eight. She placed her right hand over the two objects and muttered something in a language long dead. There was a flash of light, and the precious stone and silver medallion were fused perfectly together.

"Finished," She whispered to herself. She took the four completed Crests and placed them side by side on a golden pedestal. The four Crests vanished after a wave of her hand.

"The children have been chosen." She turned as She heard footsteps behind her. A lone figure marched up to her, then knelt.

"My lady," said the figure.

"I am surprised to see you here, Magnangemon."

"My lady, I bring terrible news. The Creature has escaped." At this news the Forger looked sharply to her trusted servant searching for any sign of jest. But Magnangemon continued, "I have failed you, my lady." The Forger of Destiny just sighed and looked to the pedestal where the powerful medallions had lain just minutes before.

"Then it is lucky that I chose to interfere when I did," she said simply. Magnangemon seemed shocked by her response.

"But my lady," the angel stammered, "they are but children, they cannot possibly stand up to power of that magnitude."

"They will learn in time, the full extent of their own power."

But the angel was not satisfied.

"I must protest, my lady. They are too young; they could die against this Creature!"

"All Humans die!" exclaimed the Forger, angered by her friend's rebellion. But she then turned away and added in a calmer voice, "I have placed the path in front of them. They may choose to walk that path or they may choose not to, but I cannot walk their path for them. I'm sorry, my friend, and I appreciate your concern for the children, but I can do no more."

Magnangemon nodded his head in understanding.

"Very well. I know you see their future, do they succeed?"

"That is not for you to know."

A small light of anger flickered into the angel's expression.

"You have grown foolish in your old ways, do you know that?" he said. The Forger turned to face him once more, and stared deep into his face.

"What?" She demanded. Magnangemon's expression was that of mockery.

"You believe yourself to be powerful, yet you are blinded by your power," the angel's otherwise pleasant smile twisted into an evil grin. The Forger just stared, dumbstruck. The angel went on, "I am greatly surprised that you could not even see me." He extended his glowing sword and lunged. The Forger reached for Her own blade but was too slow. She gasped as She felt the tip of Excalibur slice into Her body and continued its journey through her back. Magnangemon pulled Her close to his snarling face. He forced Her to watch as his helmet melted away revealing two white, lifeless eyes. Purely out of horror she found her voice and spoke.

"It cannot be!" Her voice was raspy and faint. The Creature pulled her even closer until his mouth was hovering just by Her ear.

"Goodbye, my lady," the Creature whispered.


	2. A Slight Dimension Warp

**Digimon: Down Under**

**Homework, Tap-Dancing, And A Slight Dimension Warp**

On the eastern coast of Australia, in the north side of Brisbane city, lies a coastal suburb known as Shorncliffe. Look it up on the net, it really is there.

Walking down a long street in Shorncliffe, at twelve minutes past three in the afternoon, is a boy named Timothy Green, who has just finished school for the week. He hopes to reach a set of traffic lights in peace, where he will push a button and wait for the green, electric man to let him cross the road. From there he will walk for approximately twenty minutes before entering the front door of his house. All without any unwanted events.

Unfortunately, this hope has been denied.

"Hey, Green!" Tim turned around as he pushed the button on the set of traffic lights. When he saw who had called his name, he groaned. It was Jason Walker and his posse of idiots. Jason Walker and his "gang", were a bunch of morons who had nothing to do except verbally abuse anyone about anything. They were complete cowards, who, at the first sign of a real fight, would run in the opposite direction faster than a starving lab-rat given its monthly food pellet. They were not threatening or fearsome, just annoying.

"Yes, Jason?" Tim said politely, forcing himself to smile.

"I heard that you take ballet classes after school. How about you do a little a dance for us, fairy-boy," Jason sneered while his "friends" sniggered stupidly.

Tim sighed. For once Jason was right. But only half right. Tim did in fact take dancing lessons after school, but not ballet. Tim learnt tap, jazz, hip-hop, and (but only because his instructor forced him) ballroom. But he had no interest in ballet. In fact, Tim's instructor had encouraged him not to because "ballet is not a dance, but an intricate formation of soul and emotion in the form of movement, of which you and I have no real interest in." Tim had nodded in agreement at this statement before the instructor had added, "Plus, it's an extra hundred and twenty dollars a month." But Tim did take dancing lessons after school, and he was damn good at it. Especially tap.

Jason and his fellow nobs continued to attempt to aggravate Tim into giving them a demonstration of his dancing skills, but they said it a lot less politely and overused a number of offensive words.

"Come on, you nerd! Give us a dance," one of them taunted. Tim closed his eyes and stamped his foot. The idiots fell silent for only a few seconds before Jason, who was trying to stay cool but failing, said, "I think he's about to start, guys."

And Tim did start. It was a fairly simple routine that posed no challenge for him: right heel-toe-tap-left tap-toe-heel-scuff-tap-jump-taptap-spin-heelclick-toe-heel-toe-heel-toe-heel-toe-heel. He started slow, but gradually gained speed. Jason and co just watched in amazed silence. Tim began to push his speed so his shoes were just a blur among the rhythmic drumming. Then he tried a move that his instructor had only recently taught him, a move that involved combining tap-jazz with hip-hop. He planted his feet firmly on the ground and arched his spine backwards while he flicked his left arm behind his head to catch the concrete behind him. He then jumped in the position, and brought his legs high above his head; the result was a sort of one-handed handstand. He held the position for only a few seconds before he let his body fall backwards into a reverse somersault where he was able to bring himself into the upright position. He finished with a jump and stomp. Jason and his gang just stood there, dumbstruck and mouths agape. The silence was broken when one of them turned to Jason and said quietly, "Actually, that was pretty cool."

Jason emerged from his catatonic state and pointed at Tim.

"You're an idiot!" he said stupidly. Then he stormed off with his group following closely. Tim smiled victoriously. He doubted he'd have any trouble from them for a while. He turned back towards the pedestrian crossing when he heard the erratic bleeping signalling that it was safe to cross.

10101010

Tim sat at the computer desk in his room, reached over to the pedestal fan and flicked the switch to its highest setting.

_God, it's hot_, he thought. He checked the thermometer that hung on the wall to right of the computer. The mercury was pushing 38 degrees Celsius. Tim groaned before turning back to his homework.

He was searching the Internet for inherited diseases, a thoroughly boring subject. His eyes slid out of focus as he read the same sentence for the fourth time in a row. Then an idea sparked in his head. He looked around to see if his parents were watching. Nope, he couldn't see them. He strained his ears; his mother was washing the dishes, and his dad was watching the cricket. Tim moved the mouse cursor to the URL bar at the top of the screen, but hesitated. Should he? Yeah, why not, it would only be for a few minutes.

He clicked the web address bar and typed the home page for Addicting Games.

_Just a little play_, he thought to himself as he double checked the room for signs of parental movement. He saw the "science facts" page disappear, to be replaced by the familiar "Unknown Zone". He waited for the games site to load, but the page never appeared. Instead, Tim was presented with a large red button on a black background with the words "To Enter Digital World, Click Here."

"What the hell is this?" he breathed. For a brief, panic ridden second, he thought it was some sort of net nanny, but he ruled out that idea nearly immediately; his parents could barley program the VCR. His next assumption was that it was a virus. He hastily clicked the back button, but nothing happened. He tried typing the address of the science site, and then Google, but to the same results. He faced the computerised red button in confusion. Was this a new entry page for the games site? Curiosity began to take control of common sense, and Tim, who was usually very virus aware, was being urged by a little voice at the back of his mind. Why not? He clicked the button, and waited for something amazing to happen.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" he asked absently into the receiver. There was a flash and the computer room dissolved into darkness. Tim could feel his bones and intestines trying to swap places, while his brain seeped through to the outside of his skull. His body tried to be in several places at once, twisting and squirming, trying to obey different laws of physics of different universes. He wondered where the floor had gone. He tried to look down to find out, but he found himself looking at his own eyeballs. He tried to scream but was deafened by the silence of his voice. And all the while his body was moulding into something completely different.

Suddenly it stopped, his body rearranged itself, and he was himself again. But something was terribly wrong. He was still holding a phone to his ear, but it wasn't the phone next to his computer desk. He wasn't even in his room anymore. He was standing up and staring into the familiar digital screen of a Telstra payphone. A slight breeze played about his bare ankles. The temperature was wrong; it was to cold and way to dry to be the standard Queensland summer humidity.

Eyes wide and heart beating madly, Tim forced himself not to look around, to not find out where he was because he knew he was not going to like it one bit. Slowly and with a shaking hand he placed the phone receiver back onto the holder. And then he continued to stare at the Telstra symbol splashed across the payphone. A soft voice behind him made him jump.

"Well, that was rather unusual," it said. Holding back tears of fear, Tim allowed himself to turn to see who, or what, had just spoken. As his head moved he caught glimpses of strange trees that were completely foreign to him. Trees that definitely did not grow in Brisbane, and probably not even in the whole of Australia. The colours of the leaves were all wrong; pink, blue, and just the wrong shade of green to be tropical.

Tim completed his 180 degree turn to face what had spoken earlier.

He screamed.


	3. 6PM Tidal Wave

**Digimon: Down Under**

**6PM Tidal Wave**

Tim saw, standing casually before him, the strangest creature he had ever seen. It stood about a metre high, and was covered in short black fur. It was humanoid in shape, but its face had slightly dog-like features; a small snout-like nose and pointed ears that stood high near the top of the head. It was completely black except for two bright yellow eyes and, the strangest part of all, a yellow martial arts belt tied around its waist. Attached to the belt was what looked like a pouch for storing small items. It stood upright and had its hands placed on its hips. The creature was giving Tim a quizzical look.

Tim saw all of this in just half a second. The next half a second he used for screaming. It was a short scream, more of shock than fear, but very loud. The thing's eyes widened in surprise at the sound, and it back flipped defensively then struck a very convincing Kung-Fu pose. Its face held an expression no longer of interest but of suspicion.

Tim had stopped screaming, and now it was his turn to look quizzical. He stared at the thing, which was holding its pose steady as a rock, and said:

"What are you?" The black thing looked back at him with narrowed eyes.

"You could try being more polite," it replied. Tim was confused at this remark.

"What?" he said.

"Exactly," the creature emphasised. Tim thought for a moment, then understood.

"Oh! Um, sorry. Um…_Who_ are you," he corrected his original statement. The yellow eyes lost some of their suspicion. The black creature dropped its Kung-Fu pose and assumed a more relaxed position.

"My name is Pitmon, and you must be the Human I'm supposed to be looking for," he paused before he added, "You are a Human, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm a Human, what else would I be?"

Pitmon shrugged at this remark. An uncomfortable silence followed, before Tim spoke again.

"Why are you looking for me?" he questioned. Then he remembered the creatures remark on politeness and added "Pitmon."

"Three days ago, I was visited by a powerful and beautiful digimon. An angel. She told me to come to this exact spot and meet a human, that we would become partners and Digidestined, and that I was to guide him to his destiny."

Tim blinked a couple of times. None of what had been revealed to him had made any sense whatsoever. He just smiled and nodded. The human wondered if the creature was insane, then Tim noticed a nearby tree with purple leaves flicker like a bad television set and disappear. He watched with raised eyebrows as a new tree quickly grew in its place. Tim decided that it was he who was insane.

"I was also told," Pitmon continued, "To give you this." From his leather pouch, Pitmon pulled a metal chain that had a strange symbol attached, like a medallion. It looked like a silver helix shell, and at its very centre a tiny yellow jewel sparkled with energy. Tim was entranced by its beauty.

"It's the Crest of Creativity," Pitmon said by way of explanation. He handed the medallion over to the human who carefully placed it around his neck.

"Thank you," Tim said sincerely. "But I still don't understand why I'm here. I don't even know where 'here' is." Or if this is even real, he thought to himself. He looked to Pitmon for an answer.

"Don't worry. We're only four hours away from Trade Route City. I'm sure you can find your way from there."

"Trade Route City? Where's that?" Tim asked perplexed. Pitmon simply looked at him as if he was an idiot.

"South Continent," he hinted, "The Digital World, heard of it?"

Tim just stood there shaking his head, a look of intense worry on his face.

"You're serious, aren't you?" the black thing asked rhetorically, "You honestly have no idea where you are." Pitmon paced around for a few seconds before he said, "Sit down, this may take a while."

1010101

A figure moved in the darkness.

"The second child is here. This is not good news for me. Or you," the voice was low and guttural, and was layered in the power of death.

"But, Master. I do your bidding, I am your servant! I exist only to please you!" the second voice was erratic and high pitched; afraid.

"This is true," growled the first voice. "You have served me well in your tasks. As a reward, I shall not kill you." The servant breathed a sigh of relief.

"But if you fail in your next mission," the Master continued, "You will wish I had killed you now." The servant whimpered in the presence of the evil creature, and managed to speak with great difficulty.

"I-I-I will not fail y-you, m-m-my lord. I will t-t-try my best."

"You will not try your best!" the monster screamed, outraged. "You will succeed!"

"Of course, my lord!" replied the servant, on the verge of tears. "I will not fail you," it finished quietly.

"Good. Now go," and with that, the creature was gone, and the servant was left alone in the darkness.

1010101

Digi_mon_, Digital _World_, Digi_egg_, Digi_volve_…

Tim had learned much from his talk with Pitmon. He discovered that the Digital World had been created thousands of years ago by the great God of Creation: the all-powerful Internet. Tim had tried very hard not to laugh at this revelation, afraid of offending the digimon. Tim correctly deduced that when the Internet had been created in the sixties on Earth, the networking had somehow produced life on a digital scale, thus creating a sort of alternate universe.

Pitmon had also told the Human about the rare occurrence of digivolution; when a digimon is faced with a stressful situation that threatens his or her life, the digimon in question can "grow" into a new and more powerful form to defend themselves. Often, once a digimon has digivolved, they become a guardian of a town or area, protecting it and other less powerful Digimon from outside threats. But once a digimon has digivolved, there is no changing back.

Many other trivial matters arose from the conversation, such as a digimon's defense mechanisms, or attacks, and certain digimon types; for example, Pitmon was a ninja type.

But basically, Tim had learned that he was a Digidestened; a human child chosen by the Powers That Be to protect the Digital World in times of great need, and that Pitmon was to be his guide or partner. What the great need was, Pitmon didn't know. As far as he knew, the Digital World was in a time of peace.

Tim, however, was still not completely convinced that this whole world was not just a dream or hallucination or a bad reality TV show, and kept hoping that he would wake up very soon. But for the time being he figured he may as well go along with whatever was going on. The human agreed to follow Pitmon to Trade Route City, in search of answers. Answers to which Tim wasn't sure he even knew the question to.

And so they followed a shallow river in a general northward direction. Tim's legs ached. He was in good shape due to his dance exercises, but he was unused to the stony and uneven ground. The human checked his watch, and groaned. It had stopped, the second hand stood perfectly still. It read eleven minutes past four, but that was the time he had picked up the phone back on Earth. He guessed that whatever had brought him to this place had fried the battery. It was seeming less like dream all the time.

Suddenly, Tim felt a searing pain in his ankle; he had half-stepped onto a large rock and his foot had twisted over into an unnatural position. Pitmon turned around when he heard the human swear.

"What's wrong?" the digimon asked.

"Can't we walk somewhere a little smoother?" Tim replied, rubbing his foot. He wished he had a decent pair of shoes on. All he was wearing was a pair of thongs and his school sports uniform; hardly ideal hiking equipment.

"Not really, this is the most direct route to the city. Plus, if it gets dark before we arrive then we can just follow the river and we won't get lost," Pitmon explained.

So the two started walking again; Pitmon, whose tough feet were well adapted to the gravely terrain, walked a few metres out in front while Tim, who was constantly getting rocks in his thongs, lagged slightly behind. Then Tim stopped. His ears were telling his brain that something was wrong, that something could be heard that shouldn't.

"Pitmon," he called out uncertainly, "What's that noise?" The ninja froze in his tracks and listened. An ominous rumbling reached his ears.

"Oh no," he said quietly. He quickly checked the sun's position in the sky, and turned to Tim with wide eyes and said, "It's six o'clock. Run! It's the six o'clock tidal wave!"

"What the hell?" Tim was confused. But that confusion lasted an extremely short time, when he twisted his head around and saw a giant wave of water, easily ten metres high, rushing towards him faster than a drag racer on crack with a rocket strapped to his arse.

"Oh, not fair," he squeaked, before he began the most desperate sprint so far in his life. It was a rather one-sided chase, as the wave caught up with the two partners in less than fifteen seconds.

Both Tim and Pitmon were blasted off their feet by the onslaught of water and were completely enveloped. Underwater, Tim caught a glimpse of Pitmon desperately and pathetically trying to gain control of his direction, but the immense currents and force of the wave prevented either of them from reaching the surface. And then Tim did the most sensible thing considering the circumstances. He passed out.

_Hey everyone. I hope you are enjoying this story so far. It is actually a second attempt so it should be better than before. Don't forget to R&R!_


	4. Made In Taiwan

**Digimon: Down Under**

**Made In Taiwan**

Nothing. Then…

Pain!

Then nothing came again. How long the nothingness lasted was impossible to tell; nothing has no time.

Pain! But this time unconsciousness set in, and so did the dreaming. Tim dreamt of his home and of his school, both of which he knew were very far away. But he didn't know where they were very far away from. Where was he? His mind searched for an answer, but none came.

Pain! His chest exploded time after time, his whole body convulsed as his heart was beat with a sledge hammer. And then it stopped. Something was wrong, very wrong. Something had happened to his body, his body was doing something wrong. Tim's brain searched for the problem, what was happening.

Pain!

And then the brain found it. It wasn't what his body _was_ doing, it was what it _wasn't_ doing. And it wasn't breathing, or circulating blood. The body had had a cardiac arrest! This was a problem.

Quickly, Tim's brain sent a number of electric shocks to both the heart and lungs that told them to get off their lazy arses and start working before they all died. After a small protest, the lungs began searching for oxygen and the heart began to beat half-heartedly. But no one laughed at the pun.

Tim tried to open his eyes but it hurt. He coughed up a litre of water and sucked in air. _Who schedules a tidal wave?_

An unknown force turned him onto his side as he wheezed himself into regular breathing.

"I knew that CPR course would come in handy one day," someone behind Tim said. Clutching his chest, Tim forced his eyes open. He saw rolling grass plains and a lake in the background, but standing right in front of him was a black, dog-ish, yellow-belt ninja. Pitmon. Tim groaned as the last few hours events came rushing back to him, the bottom line being: he was in a different dimension and he had an assignment due in four days time.

He rolled onto his back and two new people entered his field of vision. Well, one person and one thing, probably another digimon. The human stranger held out his hand to Tim, Tim took it and was hauled to his feet. Tim took a moment to survey his rescuer; he was wearing fashionably torn denim shorts, an orange Billabong T-shirt, decent shoes, and a military camouflage vest that was covered in pockets. He was the same hight, probably same age and… Tim did a double take.

"You're an Aborigine," he said stupidly.

"You got a problem with that, white-boy?" the other child replied, his eyebrows raised in annoyance.

"No, no!" Tim cried quickly, afraid of offending, "It's just that there aren't many Aborigines where I live," he finished honestly. So much for tact. But the other child nodded in fairness.

"Yeah. I'm probably the only one that lives where you do," he admitted.

Tim blinked in confusion (not for the first time that day) and said, "What?" The other boy pointed to Tim's soaking school uniform.

"I go to the same school as you; Sandgate High," he explained. Then he extended his hand. "Marcus Milne, year ten."

"Tim Green, year ten," Tim took Marcus's hand and shook it friendly. But then a question sprang to mind. "I don't think I've really seen you around the school before."

"I spend most of my time at the manual arts block," Marcus replied.

"Oh, yeah? I'm usually at the performing arts block."

"Cool," Marcus smiled. There was a cough from behind the two boys. Tim then took a closer look at the strange digimon. It was the same hight as Pitmon but mostly dark purple in colour except for its face, which was white. It had a red bandanna tied around its neck, matching gloves and a rigid purple tail. What most caught Tim's attention was the yellow smiley face with an evil grin painted on its chest.

"Tim, this is Impmon," Marcus gestured to the little digimon, which had a mean look on its face. "I wouldn't have lasted two seconds out here if wasn't for this guy."

"Hi," Tim extended his hand to the digimon in a friendly gesture. He didn't take it.

"I'm gonna be blunt, just to put it out there," Impmon began with his arms folded. "I don't trust you," he said to Tim. Tim took a step away.

"Um, okay. This is kind of awkward. Um… this is Pitmon, by the way," Tim introduced his partner digimon rather feebly. Marcus looked at Impmon with a rather shocked expression on his face. Pitmon, who had thus far been silent, was more than annoyed at Impmon's rudeness. Sure Pitmon had only known Tim for about two hours, but the human's innocence towards the Digital World was pretty obvious. And besides, Pitmon liked the guy; he considered him a friend.

"Why do you have an immediate distrust towards the human?" the ninja asked.

"Well think about it," Impmon began, "probably the only two humans in the entire Digital World just _happen_ to meet up, completely by accident, when one of these human's just _happens_ to be in possession of the Crest of Strength, and they just _happen_ to meet in an extremely secluded area," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "where no one will hear them scream." There was a short pause.

"You're insane," said Pitmon, Marcus, and Tim at exactly the same time.

"Hell no!" the purple digimon protested. He pointed an accusing finger at Tim. "He is a minion of the Shadow!"

"He has the Crest of Creativity!" Pitmon retorted.

"You have a Crest as well?" asked Marcus.

"Oh, yeah," Tim pulled the medallion from under his shirt and displayed the silver helix. Marcus followed suit. The Crest of Strength bore a striking resemblance to an extremely chunky, silver fishhook. In the crook where the tip of the hook bent back on itself, hung a tiny diamond that seemed to sparkle with a light of its own.

Impmon stared at the Crest of Creativity for a while then sighed.

"I'm wrong, aren't I. You _are_ just a normal human and it _is_ just a complete coincidence that we met up," he admitted, only slightly annoyed. He flopped onto the ground and took a sudden interest in tearing up tiny blades of grass. Marcus stood behind him, trying not to laugh.

"What is this Shadow that you mentioned?" Pitmon piped up. Impmon looked up from his obsessive grass-pulling and stared at the digimon in astonishment.

"You don't know? Where have you been living the last two months?"

"Random Plains," came the reply.

"Figures," the Imp said quietly. "You tell 'em," he ordered Marcus grumpily before returning to his grass-picking. Marcus raised an eyebrow at his forlorn partner, then shrugged.

"The Shadow is really just a rumour, an idea," the human began. "It apparently started about two months ago when some digimon started to act…" Marcus paused as he searched for the right word, "… odd. Walking around town as if they were completely lost, and talking to themselves. After a while they seemed to not see or hear other digimon; they thought they were completely alone.

"It happened in a few different villages at the same time, and most of the digimon thought it was some sort of illness. But when the few digimon that were affected went completely insane, everyone knew it was something… evil.

"Shortly after, the insane digimon just disappeared; completely vanished. All of this happened in about two weeks, I think. But I'm told that nowadays, every now and then, a digimon goes out of their village borders alone and doesn't return."

There was a pregnant pause, the only sound was the stream gurgling quietly in the distance. Everyone stared at Marcus, mouths agape, entranced by his story. It was Tim who spoke up first.

"What do you mean, insane?" he said. Marcus opened his mouth to reply, but it was Impmon who answered. As he spoke, he stared unblinking at a patch of grass in front of him; his eyes were glazed with an uncomfortable memory.

"Screaming," the imp began, "Always screaming. At first they screamed for help, for someone to save them. But before they disappeared, they were screaming for someone to kill them, to make the pain stop. They thought they were alone with something that was killing them, but would not let them die." Impmon looked up at the group. "I saw it happen."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Pitmon broke it.

"We should go now," he said quietly to Tim. Then he turned to Marcus and said "I am leading my new friend to Trade Route City to help him search for a way back to Earth. After that information you just divulged it appears that there is obvious safety in numbers. Would you and Impmon like to come with us?" The statement was a sensible one and Marcus agreed to the ninja's question after a grunt of approval from Impmon.

"It's a good idea," the human concurred. "I've been stuck here a week, and I just want to go home."

"A week?" Tim said astonished. "I've only been here a few hours!" he exclaimed. Marcus's brain rejected this piece of information several times before it actually made any sense to Marcus. He closed his eyes in frustration.

"You're not serious," he groaned.

1010101

It was almost eight o' clock, according to Pitmon. The group had been walking for the best part of two hours and it was now starting to get dark, but both Pitmon and Impmon assured Tim that they were close to Trade Route City. The trip had so far been uneventful, the two human boys had talked most of the way. Pitmon had listened with great interest at the boys' descriptions and stories of Earth. Impmon was also fascinated, but he had pretended not to listen. The children talked mostly about school, new movies, and who would win the next major footy match. But it was through these innocent conversations that Pitmon, who was very talented at spotting small and overlooked facts, pointed out that all though Marcus had been trapped in the Digital World for a week, he had left Earth only ten minutes before Tim had. After much debate between the four of them (criticism from Impmon) none could explain this strange time dilation.

Then Tim asked about the Random Plains. The other three explained that most open grass fields in the Digital World created some sort of static storm. Completely invisible, the storms could not be felt nor heard, and didn't affect anyone or anything in anyway. The only reason digimon were aware of the existence of the static storms was that every now and then a completely random object would fall out of the sky.

"What kind of objects?" Tim asked.

"Anything from cotton balls to washing machines," Marcus answered. "It's always human-made, nothing natural. The digimon don't know what half the stuff does, because anything electric doesn't work. It can be pretty dangerous sometimes; imagine a monster truck dropping down on top of you. But it can also be useful stuff. I found this jacket in a Random Plain." He unclipped the military jacket and handed it over to Tim. Tim read the label on the back. It said 'Made in Taiwan for the British Army'.

"So the Random stuff used to belong to humans, on Earth?"

"I think so. But don't ask me how it gets here, I've no idea."

1010101

Darkness had completely set in, and both the humans were worried. The trip had so far taken longer than expected due to Impmon's and Pitmon's conflicting ideas of where the city actually was. Pitmon was one hundred percent sure that Trade Route city lay somewhere to the east, but Impmon had bet his life that it lay slightly farther to the north. Eventually, the two small digimon had agreed to follow a dirt road labelled 'Trade Route City – This Way' that Tim had discovered while they had argued. But it was getting late, and Tim's vivid imagination put a shape to every sound that emanated from the darkness; the sort of shapes that didn't include the words fluffy, small, cute, or friendly in their descriptions.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Tim asked quietly, nervously glancing over his shoulder at a distant hoot.

"Twenty, thirty minutes," Pitmon answered. There was a muffled bang as Marcus walked into a door, that was painted with the words 'Welcome to Trad Route City' in bright, friendly letters.

"Maybe even sooner, if we're lucky," Pitmon added. Impmon took a step forward and knocked four times on the massive wooden doors. Tim squinted and saw through the gloom high walls of packed mud that stretched far to the left and right of him. Obviously, these walls marked the boundary of the city, as well as offering some protection. As the echo of Impmon's knocks began to die, a small panel on the door was slid open revealing a pink and feathered face.

"Who goes there?" the pink bird interrogated. Impmon stuck his face where the digimon could clearly see it.

"Hey, Biomon. It's me, and I brought some friends," he said. Through the square hole, Biomon quickly glanced at the rest of the group. She shut the panel and then began working the locks on the door. After a moment of sliding bolts, the huge door slowly swung open allowing the four travellers' entrance to the city. As they walked through the archway, the doors closed behind them. Biomon quickly slid the door bolt back into place then walked up to Impmon.

"I wish I could say its good to see you again," the bird said before slapping the imp hard across the face. He went down with a yelp, and the two humans flinched at the ferocity of the strike. Biomon then turned to Marcus and said:

"On the other hand, it _is_ good to see you again, Marcus. As for the rest of you, welcome to Trade Route City." And with that she turned and headed back towards her post at entrance, but only after giving Impmon a swift kick in the ribs with her talons. When she was gone, Impmon crawled to his feet and clutched his chest.

"That went better than expected," he wheezed. Before Tim could ask what just happened, Marcus elbowed him and shook his head.

1010101

The shadows swirled before the cowering servant. What little courage the servant did posses was what drove him to deliver the news. As the pathetic creature waited for his master, he attempted to push aside his immense fear by thinking of the reward his master would bestow upon him if he was successful. But part of his mind also thought of the eternal punishment if he would fail.

"Why do you call me," drawled the evil tones of the master. The servant jumped at the suddenness of the voice.

"They are here, inside the city. Both of them together," came the jittery response. "The Digidestined are here."

"Destroy them."

"But master, I am one, they are four," the servant squealed. "They have strength in numbers-"

"DO YOU QUESTION MY COMMANDS?" the voice was louder than thunder, but only the cowering servant, paralysed and whimpering with fear, could hear it. "Numbers do not concern me! They do not understand the workings of the Crests, thus they are weak! And you are strong," the Shadow finished in a calmer tone. Then he began to laugh softly, "Strong enough for this, in any case."

"Yes Master, Thank you Master. I know what I must do."

"Then I take my leave. Do not fail me." And the servant was alone in the room.

1010101

Tim hadn't known what to expect of a digimon city, but it certainly wasn't this. Most humans wouldn't have called it city, but a village. But that didn't mean Tim wasn't impressed. Small, square, Japanese looking buildings scattered the entire area of the city, which was about three kilometres square. No building was more than three stories tall, and all were made from beautiful red brick with green roof tiles. Surrounding the dwellings were the markets. Endless markets where, even at that late hour, digimon ran busily around trading this for that and enjoying the business of barter in general. Standing high above everything else in the city were several tall metal cages that supported thick black cables which stretched all around the city and then beyond the border walls and into the distant horizon.

"Power lines," Tim said under his breath.

"Is that what they are," Pitmon said beside him. "They must be nearly new; they were not around when I was here last."

Tim marvelled at the different types of digimon going about their daily (or nightly) business. He had assumed that other digimon would be like Pitmon and Impmon; human-ish in shape. But he could also see birds, mammals, lizards, dinosaurs, blobs, robots, and many other creatures that defied both imagination and the laws of physics. He stopped gazing and looked around at Pitmon, who had poked him painfully in the ribs.

"It's rude to stare," the ninja warned the human.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I've never seen so many different… _things_," he replied.

"They are not things. They are normal digimon just like me. You and Marcus look pretty strange to me," Pitmon pointed out. Tim thought this was a fair comment, and, as if just to prove it, he began to realise that nearly everyone was staring at Marcus and himself. He let the subject drop.

The group walked through the endless markets for a while when Impmon stopped and said:

"Now we're here, what do we do?"

"We see Datamon," Marcus replied confidently. Tim shot his digimon friend a puzzled look.

"Who's Datamon?" Tim asked.

"Really smart guy, he also does some really good trading. Half the time he knows he's being ripped off, but if you need it he'll let you have it. He's a nice guy," said Marcus

"Does everyone's name end with –mon?" this was something that had been nagging Tim for quite some time.

"Yup," was Marcus's, Pitmon's, and Impmon's simultaneous response.


	5. Phoenix

**Digimon: Down Under**

**Phoenix**

One of the few indoor traders, Datamon's shop was stifling hot and filled with junk. Computer parts, furniture, motor engines, and books covered the floor and walls of the Japanese-style dwelling.

"Ah. Mr Milne and Impmon," came a mechanical voice. Tim desperately looked around but could not see the owner of the voice. "It is good to lay visual receptors on you both again." Tim yelped as some of the junk began to move. Quickly he realised that part of the junk was in fact Datamon. The robot digimon was only a few feet high, most of which was a glass-domed head protecting the delicate instruments of Datamon's mechanical brain. He had four short feet and two extremely long, metal arms. But it was his face that Tim found most disturbing. The robot's right eye was simply a yellow light, but the left eye was organic. An opening in the metal armour revealed a very Human looking green eye surrounded by grey, scaly flesh.

"Hi, Datamon," Marcus greeted. "This is Tim." Datamon turned to Tim and looked as if he was about to say something when he stopped and had a better look at the boy. Datamon's left eye widened in surprise.

"Another Human? That's incredible!" the robot extended one of his hands for Tim to shake. After expressing how glad he was to know that the Gods were 'Sending in the cavalry' to protect the Digital World, he finally let go of Tim's hand and took a step back.

"Now gentlemen, what can I do for you?" he asked.

Marcus explained his and Tim's longing to get home. Datamon performed a tricky search on one of his many computers to look for something called a dimensional portal. At least, that was what the group could translate from Datamon's use of several extremely technical seven-syllable words. Much to the Digidestined dismay, the closest dimensional portal was located on top of a mountain, some day's journey away. Marcus then traded what Tim knew were television remote controls for a pair of shoes (size eight), and some hiking equipment. Datamon bid them farewell and directed the four friends to Floramon's lodge, where they could spend the night before setting out on the expectably long journey.

1010101

Tim woke with a start as he felt a hand gently shake him. As his vision cleared he saw Marcus, Impmon and Pitmon waiting for him to get up.

"Damn," he mumbled, "It's not a dream." Slowly but surely, the boy managed to throw some clothes on and tie the laces of his new shoes. As he glanced out of the window he noticed that it was still dark outside, and a faint chill hung in the air.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"The fourth hour of the morning," replied Pitmon, his internal clock ever accurate.

"Why the bloody hell are we up so early?" Tim was more than slightly annoyed at being dragged out of bed at the unholy hours of the morning, especially after the agreement the previous night that the group would leave the city at nine o' clock. Marcus handed Tim mug of what smelled vaguely like hot coffee. Tim took the cup and sipped gratefully. It reminded him more of cinnamon than coffee, but it had the same effect.

"Thanks," Tim said in appreciation. Marcus smiled before helping Impmon stuff some blankets into a backpack.

"Andromon wants to see us. He's the Guardian of Trade Route City," he added in way of explanation, and pointed to a piece of paper on the floor. "He says he has some important information for us."

The boys finished packing and then, yawning and bleary eyed, made their way to the City Square where it had been agreed to meet the Guardian. They found Andromon with his back to them, facing the very peak of a beautiful sunrise. The cyborg digimon stood over two metres tall and, from what Tim could see, was a mostly organic, almost human, creature encased in an electronic suit of armour. Although the digital sun was filling the distant clouds with pinks and purples, the warmth of the light had not yet reached the city, leaving it cold and dark. Andromon sensed the human's and digimon approach, and without turning around he spoke.

"The Guardians of the Digital World are like the sun. The rays of light and hope eventually overwhelm even the darkest of nights, and, sadly, the brightest days will grow dark and die; consumed by darkness. And so the cycle of life, and the balance of good and evil, continues in the Digital World." Andromon turned to face the four. "It is good to finally meet you, Timothy Green. And you, Pitmon."

Although his face was made of the same coloured flesh as Datamon's eye, Tim found the cyborg's facial features no where near as disturbing. In fact, they seemed to carry a sense of wisdom and courage.

Andromon motioned for the group to sit down, and continued.

"As the Digitdestined you are the strongest rays of light the sun can offer, and you will be pitted against blackest depths of darkness," he smiled slightly at the looks of fear on the four faces before him. "But as you are of Earth, not the Digital World, I don't believe that you are bound by the balances and cycles of this world. I believe you will succeed in all you attempt as the Chosen Children, the Digidestined, but more importantly: as friends.

"In order to succeed you must discover how to use the power that is within the Crests you wear. It is through the Crests that the secret to wilful Digivolution is hidden. The secret to Digivolve at anytime anywhere," he looked at the two digimon of the group, "and then return to your current forms."

"But that's not possible," said an awe struck Pitmon. Andromon laughed at this comment.

"When you live to be as old as I am, and when you see the wonders I have seen, you will know that anything is possible, no matter how impossible it may seem." He stood and the others copied. "Sadly that is the only piece of advice I can offer. I do not know where to find this Shadow, but I suggest you follow your original plan and head toward that mountain your friend Datamon suggested."

"But we're not looking for the Shadow, we're looking for a way home," Tim cried in annoyance. He didn't appreciate having this responsibility and task thrust upon him simply because he was wearing a magic necklace. Andromon shook his head and smiled.

"You cannot run away from destiny, Timothy Green. As I said, head for the mountain; it is the only goal you have. I believe fate will intervene somehow and set you on your true path." With that, he turned and walked slowly away. The four Digidestined headed in the opposite direction. A few traders had begun work even in the early hours of the day, and were busy setting up their stalls for a days trading. As the Digidestined made their way towards the exit of the city, Tim, who was thinking that he had never heard more useless advice in his life, noticed that Pitmon was constantly looking over his shoulder and had been doing so ever since they had entered the city the previous night.

"What is it? Are we being followed?" he asked his digimon friend. Pitmon wrinkled his nose in slight confusion.

"No. It's those power lines, there is something not quite right about them," said Pitmon. The others stopped to turn and look at the tall metal cages that loomed above the city. Marcus shook his head.

"They do look a bit intimidating, but they're just power lines." As the Human was used to the familiar eyesore, coming from Earth, Marcus did not find them the least bit troubling. He went on, "There's no reason to be suspicious of them."

"Oh, but there is," a familiar voice said behind them. The group turned to find Datamon waddling towards them. "These powerlines were erected two months ago."

Marcus was the first to understand what the robot was implying.

"The same time those digimon got sick and went crazy," he breathed in revelation. Datamon nodded in agreement, and pointed to the lines above them.

"Exactly. Those conductive cables are not designed to transport an efficient energy source, rather to attempt to control the minds of certain digimon. The powerlines were planted here by the Shadow, to help build an army of slaves."

The four stood in horrified amazement at the information. Impmon then broke out of his trance-like state and said, annoyed:

"How do you know all this, and why the hell didn't you tell someone?"

Datamon's electronic eye blinked from yellow to red.

"Because I designed them," was the simple answer. Marcus stepped back in disbelief.

"No," Marcus whispered.

"Are you trying to tell us that you are the Shadow?" As Tim said this, his eyes searched the area for a weapon; a stick, a rock, anything. He found nothing. Datamon laughed at the previous comment.

"No, I am not the Shadow. I am but his servant. I designed these masterpieces on his orders," he gazed lovingly at the powerlines, "and now my orders are to destroy you," he finished calmly but coldly. His voice had lost all traces of friendly welcome, and was instead layered in sinister determination. Datamon accessed the remote activation chip embedded in his mechanical brain, and caused the carefully planted shield generators to spring to life. A great dome of crackling purple energy enveloped Datamon and the Digidestined, imprisoning them together.

"We don't need any distractions, do we now?" the robot sneered sarcastically. The two rookie digimon sprang into action. Pitmon reached into the pouch attached to his yellow belt and pulled out three dark purple and green coloured marbles.

"Ninja Ball!" he exclaimed as he threw them at Datamon's feet. The balls exploded in a cloud of green smoke, but did not seem to phase Datamon. Impmon went next. A fireball ignited in his bare palm.

"Bada-Boom!" He hurled the ball of flame but it glanced ineffectively off Datamon's glass domed head. The evil robot smiled.

"Finished playing?" he taunted. "Data Crusher!" he screamed as his freakishly long arms shot out like bullets, extending even further, and slapping the two smaller digimon away.

"Impmon!" cried Marcus. Both Humans rushed to their respective digimon. Impmon and Pitmon were both unhurt. Datamon's attack had been a warm up, a warning shot. Many other digimon were now crowded outside the energy bubble, making futile attempts to break or destroy the shield that separated them from the traitor, Datamon. Datamon seemed amused by their efforts.

"Nothing can get through that shield," he announced gleefully, "Only someone with greater power than myself can tear through that!" As if to prove the point, Datamon spotted Andromon advancing toward the shield; his right hand had melted into a deadly spike, and his eyes were narrowed in anger. _Knock on wood_, Tim thought. The five prisoners of the shield saw Andromon raise his bladed arm as it began to crackle with energy. Then, the android brought his weapon down with such ferocity that the electric bubble tore, just for a second, and the Guardian of Trade Route City walked through, the bubble sealing itself behind him. The prisoners of the shield were now six.

1010101

Andromon stood before Datamon, and seethed. Datamon cowered.

"Surely you did not think that I would allow you to perform this monstrosity without intervention?" Andromon asked steadily. His right hand was still formed as the black spike. Datamon stuttered while his organic eye darted nervously.

"Surely you are more intelligent than to attempt to destroy the Digidestined in front of my very eyes!" Datamon shrank lower into the dirt as Andromon began to shout. Then Datamon muttered something no one could hear.

"What did you say?" the cyborg ordered. When Datamon looked up, his living eye no longer showed fear, but triumph.

"I said 'Breaking through my barrier must have taken a multitudinous amount of energy'." Andromon simply growled. Datamon went on.

"In fact, your energy reserves must be stupendously low," the robot drawled. Andromon had had enough. He gritted his teeth and lunged.

"Lightning Blade!" The cyborg rushed toward the short robot with incredible speed. But Datamon was quicker.

"Digital Bomb!" He extended his arms, and, from the tips of his thick, metal fingers, launched a number of small devices. The bombs attached themselves to Andromon's body, fizzled for a moment, then exploded with tremendous force. The Guardian fell twitching to the ground, as many of his circuits were shorted out by the attack.

"Primary systems non-functioning. Malfunction. Malfunction. Relaying all energy reserves to self-repair systems. Shutting down all secondary systems," the cyborg went limp as he finished the statement, but he managed to point his head in the direction of the Digidestined. "Use the Crests," he said far too humanly for Tim to stand, "the power is…" his voice changed back to its monotonous computer tones, "Shutting down all primary systems and functions. Self-repair in operation. Good luck." Andromon's body stopped twitching, and his eyes half closed. Marcus stared at the fallen android in disbelief. The two rookie digimon also just stared. But Tim's attention was on Datamon.

"Why," the Human child said simply. Datamon looked up in surprise.

"Why what?"

"Why have you done all this? Everyone tells me that you're a good person, so why are you doing this?" Tim's creative brain was working overtime. Tim didn't know why he was talking. Maybe it was to stall for time, or maybe to try to reverse Datamon's decision. "What has this Shadow offered you, that the digimon of this city haven't?" Datamon's eye flicked from red back to yellow. His left eye grew scared in contrast to his otherwise emotionless face.

"He has offered me life. In return for your destruction he will gladly spare my life."

"So you're afraid of him. Even though you are powerful, you're scared of him."

"My core programming is self-preservation! If I must destroy others in order to survive then so be it!"

"You could have killed this shadow by your self!" Tim argued.

"I am not brave enough."

"You could have gotten Andromon to protect you, then."

"He is not strong enough!" Datamon screamed. If he had had tear ducts, he would have cried. "No one is! Why can't you understand? No one can defeat my Master! No one is that powerful. I am sorry Timothy Green, but now you must die," even though the robot's voice was sincere in his apology, he did not hesitate to raise his arms and fire his Digital Bomb attack. Tim stood, afraid but sympathetic towards the pathetic creature.

"And so the cowardly hide in the shadows of the powerful, only pretending to believe that they will one day rise to those heights, but in the same not believing it," Tim quoted from a script he had written for school not too long ago. His crest began to glow. The silver helix shone from beneath his shirt, surrounding both him and Pitmon in orange light. Pitmon could feel the power coursing through him, touching his very soul and mind as it suddenly matured and grew. Datamon's attack detonated harmlessly against the bright orange light that now completely enveloped the two partners, hiding them from view. Marcus and Impmon stared in amazement at the spectacle.

"He's Digivolving," breathed the imp. As quickly as it started, the light suddenly dissipated as if it was blown away by the breeze, revealing the newly transformed Pitmon. Impmon rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He was seeing double. Or was he? Standing where Pitmon and Tim had stood moments before were, not one, but two identical ninjas that looked like they had just jumped out of an old Kung-Fu movie. The only difference was the colour. The first was black and silver, the other was white and gold. Datamon was petrified.

"It-it-it's not possible! The ninja, yes maybe. But surely not the Human too? How can a Human Digivolve?" the robot rambled.

"I am Hatorimon," the black ninja whispered coolly.

"And I am Whiteshadowmon," announced the white ninja.

"Cool," said Marcus. Then without warning, the two Champion digimon began to sprint towards the Ultimate, their intentions clear. Datamon was now the target of an assassination.

"Digital Bomb!" cried Datamon in a panic, as the small devices rocketed from his fingers.

"Shadow Strike!" called Hatorimon. There was a swirl of black mist, and an evil looking scythe formed itself into the black ninja's hand. Attached to the scythe was a long chain that ended in a lead weight. Hatorimon leaped into the air and began to slice the bombs in half with his scythe, rendering them useless. In this way he was protecting both himself and his golden twin.

Whiteshadowmon ran towards Datamon with amazing speed.

"Data Crusher!" Datamon's arms lashed out, but the white ninja easily dodged the attack by rolling sideways and continuing his advance without breaking stride.

Datamon, who was trying keep an eye on both ninjas plus the other human and digimon (Marcus had been dragged as far away as possible from the battle by Impmon who insisted that the Champions could "handle it"), noticed that Hatorimon was standing stock still almost ten metre away, while it seemed that Whiteshadowmon was going to attempt a frontal assault. The mechanical part of the robot's brain knew what had to be done, but the organic brain was now overloaded with fear. Might he actually fail in his Masters duties? If Datamon survived this ordeal with the Digidestined, would he survive his master's wrath? His self-preservation kicked in, but it was too late. Whiteshadowmon leapt into the air.

"Sun Strike!" A flash of light and a rush of wind, and suddenly a long quarterstaff was in the white ninja's hands. At each end of the staff was a golden, leaf shaped blade. The ninja twirled the staff around his body and landed just behind Datamon. Three hairline cuts surrounded the robot's glass skull. The glass slowly began to crack before it shattered completely, revealing the delicate instruments that comprised the computerised brain.

"No," the walking computer breathed hoarsely. He tried to move his body but couldn't. He managed to shift his organic eye around in time to see Hatorimon standing some ten metres away, spinning his chain around his head. The black ninja then flicked his wrist in such a way that the lead weight and chain came rocketing towards Datamon.

"NOOOOO!" the robot screamed. The weight ploughed through the top of Datamon's head, smashing his metal brain to pieces. Datamon instantly fell to the ground. There was no twitching, no messages of malfunction. The electronic yellow light that was his right eye simply faded and died. The pile of junk fell in a heap on the ground.

1010101

The gigantic bubble had vanished, and what probably was the entire population of Trade Route City had flooded into the battle arena, to the aid of their Guardian and the Digidestined. Tim felt strange, to say the least. Only a minute ago he had felt as if he could have done anything. He believed he could have leapt off a skyscraper and got a perfect ten from the Olympic diving judges. But the power had left his body and returned to the helix that hung around his neck. Tim looked down at Pitmon, who was still trying to grasp the reality of what he had just done. Surprisingly, it was relatively easy for Tim to believe that he had just transformed into a super ninja and battled an evil robot, being brought up on American television and movies. But for Pitmon's entire life it had been a known fact that once you Digivolved you can't go back to the way you were. You lost that part of you forever; the innocence of being a child-like Rookie. It began to dawn on the little ninja that he was blessed, not cursed, and was probably the first digimon in history to feel exactly how he felt. Ecstatic that he had reached Champion level, and just plain happy to be back in his Rookie form.

There was a cry from the crowd of digimon. Andromon was waking up, or turning on, depending on how you looked at it. The cyborg managed to drag himself to his feet with much help from other digimon, but his arms hung limply at his side. When he spoke, his speech was slurred and clumsy. Tim thought he sounded slightly drunk.

"My friends tell me that you managed to Digivolve, Pitmon. And you, Timothy Green," said the Guardian. "I wish I had been operational to see it, then I could safely say that I have seen everything." The android smiled weakly. Marcus was worried.

"Are you going to be alright?" the concern in the boy's voice was obvious. Andromon's smile deepened.

"I should be fully functional in four days, once I have repaired or replaced any critically damaged circuits. After all, I am not completely mechanical."

"Hey, somebody? Over here!" The voice came from behind Tim and Marcus. They turned to see Impmon poking the remains of Datamon with a stick.

"I don't think he's quite dead yet," said the imp. The Humans, Pitmon, Andromon, and a variety of other digimon gathered around the fallen robot. Datamon's organic eye was blinking very slowly, and his mouth hung slightly open, but no other part of him was moving. He was trying to talk. The creatures surrounding him strained to hear what the traitor had to say.

"I… I… was doomed," each word seemed to take a huge effort to produce. "Either… way. I was…doomed," he breathed. Then his electronic eye flickered weakly to life. It wasn't red, nor yellow, but pale blue. "Thank you for…saving me. From him. You must… destroy him."

"Who?" Marcus asked. "The Shadow?"

"Yessss…" Datamon managed weakly, "Follow the power lines." Then he began to laugh. It was the laugh of someone who was weak and dieing, but was unafraid. "You… Mr Green. I have an… intelli… gence… quota of… over seven hundred. But you asked me the… one question I… I cannot answer." He laughed a little more. The organic section of his brain was rapidly deteriorating, unable to survive without support of the mechanical mind. "You asked me… why." And he was gone. The blue eye blipped off and his left eye closed and didn't open.

Andromon stood before the dead digimon.

"He was not a bad person, he just chose the wrong path. May his next life be a happy one." As Andromon finished, the crumpled figure that was Datamon suddenly shattered into a million tiny fragments and soared into the sky.

"What just happened?" asked a confused Tim. Marcus was still staring at the sky.

"That's how it works here. When a digimon dies, the data is reconfigured into another digimon. He will be born again in a few years time," Marcus explained.

"Like the phoenix," Tim agreed. The group continued to watch the data fly away, preparing to begin a new life.

_Now you've read it, now review it. Please. I would like to thank Alforce Zero for your comments and ideas. Other reviews from ANYBODY are more than welcome. Did you like it or hate it? Spot any mistakes? Any tips to improve my writing style? Anything is welcome. Except full-on abuse. That tends to get me down a bit. _

_Goodnight Australia and World!_


	6. The Feeding Ground

**Digimon: Down Under**

**The Feeding Ground**

Whiteshadowmon raced through the endless stone hallways, twisting left and right, each corner he turned led the ninja further into the tomb. The walls of the tomb were extremely old; moss and glistening spider webs hung from the ceiling, but the Digimon just brushed them aside as he ran. Finally, he stopped at a passageway that was lined with ancient carvings of skulls and other deathly ornaments. Whiteshadowmon slowly made his way toward a metal door at the very end of the passage. Steady fear wreaked his mind, and with each step he took the fear grew stronger. The imposing door was close so he reached for the handle. As the cold metal came into contact with his trembling fingertips…

Tim woke with a start and his dream quickly evaporated, forgotten almost instantly. He pulled his body from the bedroll and into a sitting position. It was just after sunrise and the grass dew was beginning to evaporate. Tim looked around sleepily from where he sat and saw what looked like a black blob dancing around, about twenty metres away. He rubbed his eyes and made them focus properly. It was Pitmon practicing a variety of disciplined karate moves. Marcus and Impmon still slept, Impmon was sucking his thumb. The human stood up, slipped on his shoes, and walked over to his digital friend.

"What-cha doin'?" he asked groggily. Pitmon paused for a few seconds, then performed a tricky looking high kick.

"Exercising. Practising," the digimon replied. Tim watched the ninja perform a few other different moves, all of which were practiced with accuracy and precision. Pitmon stopped and looked at Tim.

"Do you know anything like this?" Pitmon asked curiously. Tim smiled, then laughed.

"Sort of," then he began a tap dance routine from an old musical. It wasn't his favourite, but was easy to do at that time of morning.

A few seconds later, Marcus woke up and sat up on his bedroll. He paused mid-yawn because he swore he could hear someone whistling _Singin' in the Rain_. Then he saw Tim dancing and Pitmon karate-ing to "_…what a wonderful feeling, I'm happy again…._" He just stared for a few minutes before muttering:

"I have got to be dreaming," then he lay down and promptly went back to sleep.

1010101

The sun's position in the sky meant that it was twenty minutes past ten, according to Pitmon. Tim, Marcus, Impmon, and Pitmon were walking through a thin collection trees that surrounded a shallow yet fast moving stream. Fifteen metres to their left, and about twenty metres above them, swung the thick black cables of the mind controlling power lines. Before the group had exited Trade Route City the previous day, they had witnessed the citizens of the city tearing down and chopping up the power cables rendering them harmless. Andromon had then instructed the Digidestined to continue to follow the cables that would, in most probability, lead them to the evil digimon known as the Shadow. Even though the wise Guardian had given them his assurances that the Crests of Creativity and Strength would protect the four Digidestined from the evil effects of the cables, Andromon had neglected to mention that the four would most definitely encounter many Digimon that were under the spell of the power lines. In fact, they had only last night battled it out with a demented Gomamon (who had covered them under a blanket of stinking fish) until Pitmon had cut the cable and freed Gomamon's mind from the evil effect. In thanks, Gomamon had supplied them with a week's worth of fish. When Impmon rudely pointed out that being given a truckload of fish and being attacked by a truckload of fish was one and the same, the insulted Gomamon had attacked the group for a second time. With another truckload of fish. Marcus had then given his partner a long lecture on the importance of knowing when to keep his big mouth shut. Impmon had only listened because he was tied upside down to a tree. Then the group had settled into bed.

And so the group continued their journey, following the power cables.

It was Tim's third day in the Digital World and he was beginning to realise some of its curiosities. Such as the weather. Digital weather did not work in quite the same way as Earth weather. For instance, on Earth, during a heavy rainstorm, the rain does not suddenly pause and begin to reverse. It was quite a sight for the two humans as they watched vast amounts of water being suck up into the sky. It had also snowed for a little while earlier that morning, with no clouds in the sky and under a blazing sun. Temperatures were erratic, and often just because something fell from the sky that did not necessarily mean it would physically touch the ground.

Tim also noticed that the laws of physics did not always apply, but only very rarely. He had seen rocks fall up a hill, and once saw a tree shrink and disappear into the ground. Not to mention the Random Plains.

After two hours of steady progress, Pitmon called the group to a halt. He pointed to the cables and announced, in a rather worried tone:

"The power cables are going into that mountain." He was right. The thick wire was entering a cliff face, not into a cave or crack in the rock, but actually entered the solid stone. It was as if someone had drilled a hole, three centimetres in diameter, straight through the rock and then fed the cables through. Which, on reflection, they probably had.

The group took a closer look. It wasn't really a mountain, more of a very big rock. A ridge that was only about twenty or thirty metres tall but carried on for an extensive distance.

"I guess we just follow the ridge and hope the cables come out of the other side," said Marcus.

After twenty minutes of walking, the group followed the rock away from the lake and spattering of forest and into a grass field encircled with large trees. Tim wished he could recognise the types of trees, but they looked nothing like the gums and sclerophyll he was used to. It made him feel even further away from home. But then he noticed a number of small, round hillocks scattered around the field. They were about a metre high and covered in lush, thick, green grass. In a fit of childish excitement, Tim ran toward one of the hillocks and jumped to the top. He turned around and faced his friends. The added hight made him feel slightly superior.

"What is this place?" he asked happily.

"It's a Tyrannomon feeding ground," replied Pitmon. Tim's happiness faltered for just a second.

"Tyrannomon?" he looked nervously to Marcus, "As in Tyrannosaurus Rex?"

"Don't worry," his friend assured him, "They're big but they're friendly."

"And did we mention big?" Impmon added sarcastically. Pitmon piped up again.

"But all we have to remember is that they won't hurt us if we don't bother them."

Tim looked around. From where he stood, on the grassy lump, he could see no sign of any other Digimon.

"How can you tell it's a Tyrannomon feeding ground?" Tim asked.

"Because of the droppings," answered Pitmon. Tim looked, but again could see nothing.

"Where?" the human was sure that his friend could see something he could not. Pitmon allowed himself a small smile.

"You are standing on them."

Impmon burst into uncontrollable laughter, he fell to the ground and began to roll about in his hysterics. Feeling like a complete idiot, Tim unenthusiastically jumped from the huge dung ball and depressively walked to join the rest of the group. Marcus put his arm around his friend and, holding back a smile, assured him that all people make fools of themselves at some point. Impmon was still laughing himself stupid.

"He-he-he…" the imp stammered through tears of laughter, "…put his foot in a huge pile of shit!"

"It's not that funny," Pitmon said.

"Yes it is," chortled Impmon. Suddenly, a massive roar vibrated the very ground they stood on. Everyone froze.

"What was the hell was that?" asked Tim, alarm evident in his voice. There came another roar, followed by rhythmic stomping that gradually got louder after every second. A huge red dinosaur with green spines and black stripes came crashing through the trees behind them; it had strange leather straps around its claws. It stood before the group and bellowed the deafening cry. The humans reflexively slapped their hands over their ears, while Impmon nearly wet himself.

"Isn't that a Tyrannomon?" Marcus asked.

"Start running," Pitmon answered simply. The ninja turned and began sprinting away from the dinosaur. The rest of the Digidestined followed. So did the dinosaur.

Tim tried his best to keep his eye on Pitmon, who was a fair distance in front of him, but it was difficult with a three thousand kilo T-rex in hot pursuit, shaking the ground violently with every step it took. Although he was extremely fit, Tim wasn't the fastest runner in the world, but pure adrenalin drove him to surpass his own natural speed. He was going so fast he was shocked when he felt something grab his ankle and pull him toward the ground. He put out his arms in order to stop his face smashing into the grassy floor, but instead landed on something soft. Pitmon. It was Pitmon who had grabbed his ankle and who was now struggling to get out from underneath him. Too shocked and scared to move, Tim felt himself being dragged into a small hole in the ground, semi-covered with thick branches and foliage. He sat up and saw Marcus and Impmon, both were signalling for him to keep quiet. Over head, they could hear the Tyrannomon running towards them. The four sat and prayed that it wouldn't see them. As wished, the dinosaur ran past their hiding place, a few seconds later and its trembling footsteps had died.

"That was close," whispered Marcus. Pitmon looked at Tim.

"That was the last time I use myself as mattress for you," said the ninja. Tim pretended not to hear. Instead he focused on the problem at hand.

"Who said Tyrannomon were supposed to be friendly?" he began.

"They are, but that was not a Tyrannomon," Pitmon said. He looked around at the group with obvious fear and concern in his face. "That was a Darktyrannomon. Something has caused it to mutate into an evil, more destructive form."

"The power cables," Marcus explained, quick to put two and two together.

"Hold on," protested Impmon, "Aren't the cable currently stuck inside a huge slab of solid rock?"

"What if the ridge is acting as some sort of amplifier?" suggested Pitmon. The four minds were working in overdrive to formulate answers and an escape plan. Pitmon continued, "It would explain the mutation."

"Rock can't transmit electronic signals, evil or otherwise. If anything, it should be resisting them," Marcus' vast knowledge of machines and electronic principals provided what he thought were obvious flaws in Pitmon's idea, but Tim shot him down.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, Marcus, but the laws of physics in the Digital World can be kind of screwy," Tim said. Marcus grunted in understanding, then the friends thought in silence.

"Our best bet is to find the cable at other end of the ridge and cut it. That should destroy the mind control transmission," Marcus looked to Impmon. "See if the coast is clear." Impmon saluted in mockery but obliged. Slowly he peeked his head from their hiding spot. There was a huge explosion overhead, and Impmon quickly withdrew back into the hole; his normally pale face was ashen and scorched.

"There is now four of them out there, and they know exactly where we are," he announced dryly.

"Bugger," someone said. Marcus pushed his hands into a large pocket on his military jacket and pulled out two miniature crossbows. Tim eyed him dubiously.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to distract them, then you three run to the ridge, it's not far. Then you find the cable and cut it," Marcus checked and loaded the bows as he spoke, avoiding eye contact.

"You can't…" Tim began.

"You got a better idea? Because I really don't want to do this. But from what I've seen I'm the faster runner, no offence," Marcus' dark face was lined with fear. "It's the only plan we have," he finished forcefully, signalling an end in the debate. Tim hung his head in defeat.

"Alright. We'll meet up after the cable gets cut," as Tim spoke he tried to push the numerous faults in the simple plan to the back of his mind. They could all get blasted with fire as soon as they left the hole, the Darktryannomon wouldn't follow Marcus, and the fact that Marcus could get killed were just some of the down sides to the idea. "Pitmon? If… When we manage to cut the cable, how long till the dinosaurs go back to their normal form?"

"It should be instantaneous," answered Pitmon. It was obvious that he liked the plan less than Tim, but there was nothing else to be done. Tim breathed deeply.

"Marcus, you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," said the crossbow-wielding human. Tim looked to the Digimon.

"Ready?" he asked. Pitmon nodded.

"With you all the way, captain dung-boots," Impmon replied. A thought crossed Tim's mind. Less than four day ago his life focused only on school assignments and dance routines. Now his life hung by a thread. He understood that he could very well die in this world. He embraced that knowledge and used it to fuel his system, to increase the effects of the adrenalin pumping through his veins. He looked over at Marcus who was crouched just beneath the leaf-covered hole, determined to draw the fire of the Darktyrannomon to give his friends the precious time they needed.

Marcus took a deep breath, and jumped.

"GO!" he screamed. The others followed a few seconds later, into the hell that raged above.

_That's all for now. Thank you very much for the reviews you sent me last chapter. In response to your questions:_

Taluria_, will there be more Digidestined? Well... You have inspired me to write a prolouge just for you. That should answer your question._

Alforce Zero,_ can I provide explainations for the names of Digimon I have created. Yes, that is a fantastic idea!!! In fact, I'll start right now. _Pitmon _is a yellow belt ninja, his name is derived from _Pitch Black, _hence the colour of his fur and subtle reference to the nature of assassins. _Whiteshadowmon _is pretty self explanatory. _Hatorimon,_ has been taken from Hanzo Hatori (or Hattori) and is the name of a number of ninjas, assassins and swords both fictitious and real._

_CYA next time! R&R._


	7. The Right Path

**Digimon: Down Under**

**The Right Path**

Marcus fled from the fire-breathing monsters, away from the rocky ridge and towards the lake as they chased him. As he ran he carefully kept his index fingers clear of the triggers of the two crossbows he held, so as not to misfire. A huge fireball exploded next to him and another flew overhead, but still he ran. He cocked his head ever so slightly to the right to get an idea of where the Darktyrannomon were. Then, without breaking stride, he spun around and fired the left crossbow. The bolt struck one of the dinosaurs in the belly, but its hide was so thick it didn't even notice.

"Shit," Marcus breathed, as he returned to his sprinting. It had been a waste of a shot. He turned and raised the right crossbow, this time taking more careful aim. _Shlip_! The bolt sped from the bow and lodged itself in the lead Darktyrannomon's eye. The giant went down with a howl as white goo spurted from its pierced pupil.

Marcus threw down his now useless crossbows and began pumping his arms up and down, focusing on speed. There were now only three dinosaurs chasing him, but the fireballs had become more frequent. He managed to dodge the attacks easily; the Digimon were running fast out of energy and beginning to slow. But Marcus was a natural sprinter. He had held the cross-country championship at his school for the last two years, and he could easily outrun most of the students in year twelve. But that didn't change the fact that he was scared out of his brain. Where was that damn lake?

He quickly checked over his shoulder; they were still after him. And judging by the evil expressions worn on their terrifying faces, the Darktyrannomon were not going to lose interest in the chase any time soon. So on he ran; faster and faster, ducking and weaving as balls of fire streaked so close to him he could feel his black skin begin to cook. His legs began to ache, and his throat and lungs felt as if they had been rubbed over with sandpaper. He couldn't go on forever. The mutated Digimon were slowing down, but Marcus was sure that they would catch him before long. What they would do to him when they did, he tried not to think about.

The lake! He pumped his arms and legs faster, ignoring several sharp pains all over his body. The lake was only a few hundred metres away. As he drew steadily closer to the water's edge, with the three Darktyrannomon hot on his tail, he wondered why the lake was important. Was jumping in the lake going to protect him? He pushed the doubt out of his mind by reasoning that fire-breathing creatures were probably afraid of water. Possibly.

He dived headfirst into the cool, deep water and swam for a few metres. When he surfaced he was shocked when he didn't see the three Darktyrannomon jumping up and down infuriated by their prey's escape. He was positively insulted when he saw the monsters jump into the water after him.

"That's not fair," he breathed, keeping his head above the calm water. He felt so stupid. The dinosaurs didn't even have to swim, they were so huge they could stand up in the deep lake, while he was fast running out of energy. But he had to keep trying. Once the Darktyrannomon had finished with him they would find Impmon and the others. He bit his lip. He _had_ to keep the monsters occupied. He began to swim downstream, but he could feel the tug of exhaustion pulling him down. As the Darktyrannomon swiftly beared down on him through the water, Marcus began to sink. As he went down he chuckled; these murderous beasts were the very creatures he was trying to save. If only he had a little more strength.

1010101

Impmon, Tim, and Pitmon ran along the base of the cliff searching for a door, or cave, or crack in the rock that might lead them to the evil power cables hidden inside. Even though the two digimon's expressions were impossible to read, Tim was sure that they felt the same way he did. Nervous, anxious, and guilty, for leaving Marcus behind to fend for himself. As the three quickly but thoroughly scrutinised the extensive crag of stone, Tim's thoughts kept drifting back to Marcus, just before they had been separated. Tim had never seen anyone look so determined, so ready for action. The boy wished he had Marcus' bravery. Then Tim remembered that he needed to be searching the wall, and cursed himself for not doing so.

Suddenly Impmon, who was in the lead, stopped dead in his tracks.

"Something's wrong," he whispered. Tim thought he sounded shocked, but what at he couldn't guess.

"What is the matter?" asked Pitmon. Impmon turned around, his eyes were wide and distant; he appeared to be looking past the other two.

"Marcus. Something's happened to Marcus," the urgency in Impmon's voice rose quickly. Neither Tim nor Pitmon had ever seen Impmon so afraid. "I'm going back," the imp said simply, and began to head back the way the group had come.

"Impmon, no!" Tim cried, going after him, "We have to stick together." The human reached out to grab the digimon, but Impmon dodged the pale hand and began to run. But Pitmon was faster. He managed to trip Impmon, who swiftly got to his feet and threw a wild punch at the ninja. Pitmon easily dodged the attack, and blocked several more blows from the imp. Impmon took a step backwards, realising that he could not win against Pitmon in hand-to-hand combat. Instead, he placed his right arm behind his back and ignited a ball of fire in his palm. With a look of wild desperation etched across his face, the purple digimon hurled the fire at Pitmon with such ferocity that Tim thought that his ninja friend was sure to be burnt.

"Look out!" the human screamed. But Pitmon was ready; he leaped over Impmon's head, delivered three swift punches to his shoulder blades, kicked the imp behind the knees causing him to kneel, and then held Impmon's hands firmly behind his back. Impmon struggled and swore, but Pitmon's grip did not loosen.

"I'm sorry, friend, but Tim is right. If we go back now then all of Marcus' actions would be in vain."

"Yeah," Tim agreed, "If we find the cables and destroy them, Marcus will be safe."

"_If_?" Impmon mocked, still struggling. Tim gave the digimon a long, hard stare.

"I am not going to let Marcus down," Tim said firmly and honestly. Impmon stopped struggling, and sighed.

"You're right, I'm being an idiot." Pitmon released Impmon, who got to his feet and began walking along the wall of stone. "Let's find those cables."

Tim smiled in relief as he followed. He didn't need any more problems right now. He focused his attention on the lay of the wall once more, but soon after was distracted by Pitmon who was yelling to stop. Tim looked up from his investigation in excitement. Had Pitmon found something? Instead he saw Impmon sprinting back towards the Tyrannomon feeding ground, to far away for him or Pitmon to catch him.

"Impmon!" Tim called out, but Impmon had no intention of stopping. Pitmon looked up to his human partner.

"What now? Do we follow him or do we continue searching for the cables?"

Tim felt deeply distressed. On one hand he wanted to follow Impmon to help find Marcus; what if Marcus was hurt or worse? On the other hand, if he found a way into the stone wall that led to the mind controlling power cables, that would guarantee Marcus' safety once the cable had been cut. But finding those wires was no guarantee. In fact, discovering an entrance into the cliff-face seemed increasingly unlikely with every metre he searched. Which decision, which direction would better aid Marcus?

"Tim?" pleaded Pitmon, "What do we do?" With a quick glance at Impmon disappearing into the distance, Tim set his feet in the direction originally headed: along the rocky wall.

"We look for those cables." Tim hoped he sounded a lot more confident than he felt.

1010101

When Impmon stumbled across the lake, it at first did not register that the lake, which was about fifteen metres wide and at least five metres deep, was frozen solid. It was only when he slipped and fell on the ice did he notice the mysterious alteration from liquid to solid. He quickly scrambled off the lake when the extreme frigidity began to numb his body. But occurrences that would otherwise be impossible on Earth could and did happen in the Digital world, which had unbelievably erratic weather patterns. So an entire lake turning to ice in just over half an hour did not receive a second thought from Impmon. Until he spotted the three Darktyrannomon embedded up to their waist in ice.

"Now that's something you don't see every day," he drawled. Suddenly, a loud and low-pitched screech caused him to turn on his heel. The forth and final Darktyrannomon was conducting fierce battle with a digimon Impmon had never seen before. The strange digimon stood roughly three metres tall, covered in bulging muscles, and was simian in appearance. It was covered in thick fur that was striped black and white. Impmon noted that an empty holster slung across its back probably housed the very large gun it was currently aiming at the red dinosaur.

"Ice Ball Bazooka!" the deep voice cried, as a heavy stream of ice, snow, and slush burst from the barrel of the oversized weapon and blasted into the chest of the Darktyrannomon, knocking it off its feet. Impmon watched with amazement as the powerful mutant digimon went down with a howl, shuddered once, and didn't get back up. But the imp's attention was drawn from the fallen beast by a flash of light. In the span of only a few seconds, Impmon saw the giant, striped gorilla shrink into a much smaller figure. As the light faded he saw who it was.

"Marcus?" he breathed in disbelief. Marcus looked over to his friend, and smiled weakly. The human managed a small wave, then fainted.

1010101

"I think I've found it!" Tim rushed over to where Pitmon stood, running his hands up and down part of the cliff face. Tim squinted to the section of stone that his partner was indicating, but failed to see any significance.

"I don't see anything," he said. Pitmon didn't look up from his study of the wall, but he now pointed to a point on the rock.

"It's written in Benaari, an ancient language," the ninja added in explanation. "I think I can read it."

'_Zewah oon serrwoh zaar oon oonwah won zasa-on za zewah zaar on on sah'_ is what Pitmon read. He translated it for Tim.

"It says 'Let the river of life flow upon this rock for it to bare its entrance.' What do you think that means?" the black digimon looked up to his partner for explanation. But Tim already knew. Without hesitation he took a large rock from the ground and thrust it against his own hand. He gasped in pain and Pitmon exclaimed incredulously at to what he was doing. Tim just ignored his friend and instead watched as a small stream of blood dribbled slowly over his palm, before wiping that blood over the words Pitmon had just read. A square section of the stone simply vanished, leading to a dark passageway. Pitmon stared in amazement.

"How did you know what it meant?" he asked his human. Tim smiled and tapped the side of head.

"Lateral thinking," Tim replied. But then his smile vanished, and his eyes spoke an apology of their own. "I should have warned you first. I'm sorry, if I startled you." Pitmon put his hands on his hips and nodded. He'd thought Tim had gone insane for a moment. He then signalled for Tim to lead the way. The ninja seemed calm enough, but while Tim wasn't looking Pitmon unclasped his belt pouch and removed one of his explosive green and purple marbles, just in case.

It didn't take long for the two to find what they were looking for, and the path was relatively easy. It was just a straight and narrow stone corridor, occasionally lit by torches that hung on the wall and looked as if they had been burning for years. Apart from some easily avoided falling spikes, Tim and Pitmon found the evil, black power cables without hassle. In a hollowed out cavern at the end of the tunnel, the cables emerged from the walls on either side and connected up to a complicated structure about the size of a large ute. Tim recognised it instantly as an electric booster station. He also instantly recognised the need to destroy it, to halt its evil mind controlling power, to save Marcus. Without a thought for his own safety, he plunged his golden quarterstaff deep into the heart of the troublesome machine.

"Sun Strike!" The booster station exploded in burst of white light, but Whiteshadowmon barely blinked as hot metal fragments spun wildly around the cavern. Pitmon, who had been safely shielded behind his friend, looked up in amazement at his partner's transformation.

"You digivolved again," he whispered in awe. Whiteshadowmon smiled behind his solid gold mouth covering.

"It is possible only in times of great need," the white ninja replied. There was a shimmer in the air, and then Tim was staring at his own pale, fleshy hands. "But I think we'll be able to digivolve at will, with practice," he said to Pitmon. "C'mon. Let's find Marcus." And with that the two ran back down the stone passage.

1010101

Tim watched in joyous disbelief as Marcus hobbled over a high grassy knoll towards him, Impmon supporting as much of his friend's weight as he could. Marcus' black skin glistened with sweat, and the boy was breathing heavily as if he had run a kilometre in a minute.

"You kept insisting that he was going to be okay, and you were right," said Pitmon through a grin. Tim turned to his small friend and said, rather ashamedly:

"There was a time when I didn't believe myself, and thought I'd made the wrong choice." Then they started towards Marcus and Impmon, but as they came closer two, then three, then four enormous red, reptilian heads emerged from behind the hill, only a few metres behind them.

"Oh no," Tim breathed, "They're back." His eyes wide with fear, the human began to gesture wildly and shout to his friends to run, to look behind them. But Marcus and Impmon seemed to pay no attention to Tim's dramatics. Were they blind? How could they not see him, or more to the point, four giant bloodthirsty dinosaurs? Only then did Tim realise that Pitmon was chuckling. The ninja shook his head in amusement. Tim looked bewildered.

"It's okay, Tim," began Pitmon, "They're back to normal, you saved more than just Marcus." He was right. The dark streaks and leather straps were gone from the monsters' bodies, as were the burning red eyes. All four of the Tyrannomon wore expressions of simple happiness on their faces. Tim also noted that one had a bandage over its eye.

The two sets of partners reached each other, and Tim could not hold himself back from embracing Marcus who was surprised at the other boys sudden show of emotion.

"I thought you were dead," Tim said downheartedly. "I thought I'd killed you."

Marcus pulled away and held the Anglo-Saxon at arms length.

"How would you have killed me?" he asked honestly confused. Tim's eyes darted to the ground.

"I kept thinking that I should have gone with you or after you, like Impmon did. I kept thinking I made the wrong decision."

"If you had come with me I think we'd all be dead," Marcus grimaced. They shared another quick hug before breaking away, physical contact no longer being acceptable in a social/emotional situation. Then Tim, after greeting and thanking Impmon, looked up to the four Tyrannomon who were just standing idly by. Turning again to Marcus he said:

"So… What's with the dinosaurs?"

"They wanted to meet whoever broke the mind control spell. You saved them and they want to thank you, Tim," Marcus answered. He then smiled broadly and pointed at Tim, and in a very theatrical voice said, "This human is the one you want, he is your saviour!"

One of the Tyrannomon shuffled forward towards Tim and then bowed so that the two were on eye level. It then growled what was unmistakably a thank you.

"Y-you're welcome," said Tim nervously. Despite having flashes of 'Jurassic Park,' Tim slowly reached out and very tentatively touched the Tyrannomon's snout, which crooned in appreciation. The red dinosaur then stood upright so suddenly that Tim fell over backwards. The four giants bugled a grateful salute, which Impmon and Pitmon both returned, before turning and lumbering off back to their feeding ground. As Pitmon helped Tim off the ground, Marcus sighed and said:

"We'd better get moving too. Make some distance before sunset."

"Yes," Pitmon agreed, "And quickly, before it rains." The others glanced at the sky in confusion. It was bright blue without so much as a wisp of cloud to catch the sun's warm rays.

"What rain, ya yellow-belted idiot?" demanded Impmon dryly. On queue, everything grew dark. They all looked up as huge black rain clouds literally flickered into existence above them. The others had long ago told Tim about how the weather in the Digital World could change very suddenly and without warning, but it seemed to Tim that he had not appreciated just _how_ suddenly. Pitmon lead the group hastily away from the rocky ridge and the feeding ground northward, until they came to an open grass field. The clouds trembled threateningly above.

"Shouldn't we move somewhere else?" Tim shouted above the thunder and the wind that had just picked up. "We're the tallest things in this field and I thought I saw some lightning!"

Marcus shook his head. "This is a Random Plain. It creates a static field that neutralises the lightning," he explained, with gestures.

"This is the safest place we can be in a storm," Pitmon agreed.

"Great. Now that we don't have to be worried about being electrocuted, let's start worrying about freezing to death when it starts raining," Impmon added dryly. Tim mentally agreed. If only there was some shelter, anything would do really; a cave, a ditch, a hole…

"A caravan?" Tim found himself staring at the big white form of a motor home that had simply appeared not far from the group. The air was a few degrees warmer around it and the grass sizzled slightly under its tyres.

"Inside!" ordered Marcus, as he felt a few cool drops land on his head.

Once inside and safe from the pouring rain, and after they had time to look around, the four were pleasantly surprised. Marcus had found the owners manual underneath the drivers seat and from then on the friends had discovered that the caravan had a gas powered stove, heater, and lights, as well as a full bottle of LPG gas. It had enough seats that transformed into beds to accommodate all four, as well as a fridge full of bananas even though the fridge didn't work. There was a shower and toilet with a one hundred-litre reserve of water. The caravan also had a full tank of petrol but, Marcus pointed out, since the battery was dead (as was the fate of all electronic items entering the Digital World) they would be driving nowhere.

Impmon, Pitmon, Marcus, and Tim had all settled into bed and Marcus had begun recounting what had happened after they had separated in the feeding ground.

"… And I thought I was about to drown. But then I felt this surge of energy, it felt like every part of my body was exploding, but it felt good. I opened my eyes and I knew that I had Digivolved. Everything looked… sharper, more distinct. And then this part of my mind, a piece of my brain that I've never used before, it just knew. I knew who I was, what I could do, and what I _had_ to do."

"And who were you?" asked an awe struck Tim. Marcus smiled a deep, powerful smile that was etched with a new knowledge, a new self.

"Sensaitmon."

_That's all for now, folks._

Veranda _thank you so much for your review. It was the best review i have ever recieved, and i look forward to your future critisisms._

Sensaitmon: _Sensei - Japanese for Teacher. i know that has nothing to do with winter, gorillas, or ice but, hey, whattaya gonna do?_

_CYA next time!_


	8. Motor Home Madness

_YES! Believe it or not, I have actually posted another chapter. I am so, so, so sorry to all who were reading that this has taken so bloody long. It has been a hard slog to get this done but I hope it will all be worth it. Enjoy._

**Digimon: Down Under**

**Motor Home Madness**

Fresh, hot water burst from the showerhead and filled the fibreglass cubicle with a sauna-like haze. It was only the second proper wash Marcus had received during his ten-day stay in the Digital World. Although the washing away of several days worth of dirt and sweat filled the human teenager with ultimate contentment, he unconsciously complied with the strict water restrictions of Brisbane City and turned the water off after about three minutes. After shaking the majority of the lingering water off his black-skinned body, Marcus opened the shower door just a crack to reach for the towel he had hung up close by. After drying and wrapping the towel securely about his waist, he headed outside of the caravan to collect the clothes he had hung out to dry earlier that morning. He was surprised to find his and Tim's clothes completely dry after only about an hour in the sun, but, hey, this was the Digital World, they could have just as easily frozen instead. He began to change where he stood; no one could see him. He watched with interest as a wrought iron, circular staircase simply entered into existence on the top of the next hill, some hundred metres away. The far off staircase toppled over with a dull crash and began to roll down the slope, and out of Marcus's field of vision. The human shook his head and grimaced. Damn, this place was weird. 

Marcus had finished slipping on his orange Billabong t-shirt when he heard something. A distant wail. The sort of sound you hear when you are at the back of the line for the roller coaster. He looked around to see where it was coming from, but before he knew what was happening an orange football with wings spear tackled him in the gut and blasted him off his feet. As Marcus crawled onto all fours trying to get his wind back, he realised the orange football with wings was, in fact, a Digimon that looked like an orange football with wings. He watched as it danced dizzily about before falling over, muttering something about wanting to ride the faster one, and fainting.

1010101

"It's a Patamon," Pitmon told the humans.

"It looks like a sausage roll with wings," Tim observed. Marcus had carried the unconscious Digimon inside and woken the others in order to help. It now lay peacefully on the kitchen table of the caravan. Impmon was poking it with the handle end of a butterknife.

"Patamons are usually very innocent and childlike," Impmon continued his commentary. "They can't be corrupted by power or greed. They're commonly used as a symbol of purity and good luck."

"Why?" Marcus was confused as to how such a small and insignificant Digimon could mean so much. Impmon looked up from his prodding. He twirled the knife around his gloved fingers and planted it on a bench.

"Because they can eventually Digivolve into one of the most powerful Digimon to ever have existed," Impmon explained. Pitmon was nodding in agreement. Impmon went on, "Seraphimon. A mega level holy angel Digimon. There hasn't been one in a hundred years, not since the reign of the Four Dark Masters."

"Wow," Marcus said respectfully. The tiny Digimon began to stir and stretch, as if waking from a good night's sleep. It began to mumble something. As Patamon slowly woke the mumbling became more coherent.

"…Me baby ain't nothing but mammals, so lets do it like they do on the discovery channel…" it sang sleepily. Tim burst out laughing. Marcus raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"_That_ is a symbol of innocence?" he asked Impmon. Neither of the two Digimon knew what to say. The Patamon yawned and was completely awake. It looked up with big green eyes at the four figures that surrounded it.

"I'm not in Cino anymore, am I?" it spoke with a squeaky, wavering voice. It didn't sound afraid, just interested.

"Cino?" Tim looked to his partner.

"A small town," Pitmon answered. Marcus sat down at the bench where the small Digimon lay, and asked what it was doing in the middle of a Random Plain, kilometres from anywhere. Patamon looked around confused.

"I'm lying on a bench. Inside a house with wheels. Didn't you know that?" it said to Marcus as if he was stupid. Marcus laughed at the comment. Impmon rolled his eyes. Marcus tried again.

"No, I meant how did you get here?"

"I flew."

Marcus took a deep breath, and tried not to get annoyed. He looked to Tim for support, but he merely shrugged.

"Did you come from Cino town?" Marcus figured he might get a better response from a more direct and obvious question. Patamon thought for a while.

"Do you like peanuts?" the little Digimon asked out of the blue. The sudden question threw Marcus' thoughts and a confused expression etched itself on his face.

"What the hell…" muttered Impmon, while Tim, who was leaning against a wall, tried to make any sort of sense of the winged creature's answers so far. It seemed that the only one who was unaffected by Patamon's unorthodox answers was Pitmon, who stood without moving and continued to stare at the newcomer.

"What?" Marcus managed to say in a tone that he reserved for moments of extreme disbelief and misunderstanding. Now it was Patamon's turn to look confused.

"'What' what?" it asked.

"Why did you ask about peanuts?" Marcus could feel a small pool of annoyance growing within him.

"What peanuts?" Patamon did not sound like he was winding the human up on purpose, even worse, he sounded honest and innocent. Beneath the bench, Marcus clenched his fists.

"You said something about peanuts," he growled through a stiff jaw.

"No I didn't." Patamon's expression and tone were unreadable, neutral. Marcus stared aggressively at the orange football while suppressing the urge to score a field goal with it. Out of ideas and patience, he got up from the small bench and took one of the many bananas from the miniature fridge before heading through the caravan door and outside. No one moved. Tim looked to Impmon, who shrugged.

"That was a very yellow peanut," Patamon said, probably to himself.

Guess it's my turn, Tim thought, and he began to move to bench but Pitmon got there first.

"Hello, my name is Pitmon."

"Hi," Patamon returned cheerfully. "I once saw a cloud that looked nothing like you."

Pitmon just smiled and nodded his head, but his eyes seemed to change. Tim was unable to explain it, but the yellow orbs seemed to glisten slightly, but when Tim looked harder they seemed the same as usual.

Pitmon stopped nodding, and Patamon was about to say something else but no sound came from his open mouth. He just smiled and stared back into Pitmon's yellow eyes. Then, without breaking eye contact with the smaller Digimon, the black-furred ninja motioned for Impmon and Tim to leave the caravan and join Marcus outside. Even though Tim was fascinated and curious as to what Pitmon was doing, he obeyed.

As the two stepped through the door, Tim heard Pitmon say, "Can you hear me? Good. I'm going to ask you a few questions."

1010101

It was half an hour before Pitmon exited the caravan. In that time Tim, Marcus, and Impmon had had several games of hacky-sack with a small bag of dried fruit. It also gave Tim time to wonder, not for the first time, why the mini fridge in the caravan was full of bananas. Not that Tim was complaining, it just seemed very… random. Well, they were in a Random Plain. Tim shrugged and continued playing.

The three turned as Pitmon closed the door to the motor home behind him.

"Well," the black furred Digimon began, "he's either crazy, stupid, or just really, really, _really_ weird."

Impmon held his hands up, as if in prayer.

"Oh thank you very much professor obvious. What ever would we do without you?" Impmon's voice changed from sneering sarcasm to an annoyed growl. "Now tell us something we don't know."

Pitmon gave the little demon an I'm-about-to-tell-you-just-be-patient look.

"He didn't run or fly away from Cino. He was chased away, by the other villagers." 

"I wonder why they did that?" Impmon returned to scathing sarcasm. Pitmon ignored him.

"He says that two months ago all the other villagers fell sick. They began to leave gradually until only a handful were left. But the ones who stayed behind got violent and ran him out of the town. From what I could gather, it was because Patamon was the only Digimon who had been unaffected by the sickness."

Impmon held up his hands in protest.

"Hold on. Are trying to tell me that that… talking sausage in there _isn't_ mentally unstable?" Once again the imp was ignored.

Tim thought for a while before something clicked.

"Pitmon, when you say 'sickness,' do you mean…?"

"I think the Shadow is mind controlling the whole town," Impmon finished for his human counterpart, "but for some reason Patamon wasn't affected."

Impmon opened his mouth to make a smart-alec remark, but Marcus cut him off.

"I think we should go to Cino. There'll be power lines there. We can kill two birds with one stone; destroy some power lines and save the remaining Digimon there, get back on course towards this dark mountain, plus we can get Patamon off our backs."

Tim nodded, "That's three birds," he pointed out, "but, yes I agree. He is kind of annoying."

"Understatement of the year," Impmon mumbled. Tim looked to Pitmon.

"So which way is Cino?" he asked.

1010101

While the two rookie Digimon argued about which would be the best, shortest, and safest route to take to Cino (Marcus listening in amusement), Tim returned inside the caravan to begin packing supplies for the trip. He opened the fridge to grab a handful of bananas, but the fridge was empty. Tim's eyes widened in shock; they had hardly any other food left. There was no trace of the fruit. 

"Where have all the bananas gone?" he called out weakly. Patamon, who was still lying on the bench, rolled onto his back.

"I had to get rid of them," the tiny Digimon replied. "I took them outside and burnt them till there was nothing left." Tim just stared in disbelief for a few seconds.

"Why?"

"Because they looked at me funny," Patamon's voice bordered on anger. Tim stared for another couple of seconds.

"Patamon," the human said very slowly and gently, as if addressing a small child that was awaiting praise after painting his father's best suit in honey, "bananas don't have eyes."

Patamon looked slightly puzzled. "Of course they don't have eyes. Why would you say they do?"

"You just told me that they looked at you," said Tim, trying extremely hard not to scream.

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

Patamon rolled back onto his stomach and shook his head. Tim took a very deep breath.

"Patamon. Did you burn the bananas?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Tim asked, trying not to cry. Patamon looked nervously around him, as if to see if anyone else could hear the conversation. He motioned Tim to come closer. Patamon put his mouth right next to Tim's ear and whispered:

"I don't know." Tim stared at Patamon for a full minute this time, before he turned on his heel and stepped outside shutting the door behind him.

1010101

Pitmon sensed Tim's suppressed rage the moment the human came back outside. Impmon became confused; the argument had ceased without him winning, plus he was now no longer the centre of attention.

Tim violently kicked a large stone that narrowly missed Marcus.

"Hey, watch it!" The last thing Marcus needed was a rock instead of an eye. Tim ignored his protest, however.

"We've got no food," he said, managing to keep his voice level. The other three looked up sharply, all other thoughts forgotten. Tim's voice gradually rose in volume and anxious anger, "That walking, breathing, flying little… _turd_ has destroyed all our food, the bananas, they're gone." He repeated what Patamon had told him. The group stood in silence, trying to fathom the disaster that had struck.

"No," said Marcus eventually, trying to will the disastrous circumstance away. "He's lying, he wouldn't have… he hasn't left the caravan," he finished confidently.

"Then where are the bananas? If they're not in the fridge?" Impmon's temper rose hotly. He hated being hungry, almost more than he hated being wrong. It was Pitmon who provided the answer to the demon's question. Racing around the other side of the motor home, he returned with a handful of blackened mush.

"He must have flown out the window, this is all that is left," he indicated the lump in his hand. Tim lowered himself to the ground and moaned. Marcus tried to see a bright side. Failing, he tried instead to see what could be done about this extremely dark side.

"Could we ration our food? How much food do we have left?" he asked.

"About a days," replied Impmon, who was ever watchful on edible reserves.

"Okay, and how long will it take us to get to Cino?"

"Two maybe three days," Pitmon answered, depressed. Impmon, who had flopped to ground in horror, stood up straight and ignited a fireball in his palm.

"Right," the imp began, anger and determination crept worryingly into his voice, "I'm going to roast the oversized jellybean. That should cover us for lunch." He began to march towards the caravan door, but the others held him back as he struggled.

"Killing Patamon won't solve anything," Pitmon reasoned calmly.

"No, but it'll make me feel better," Impmon growled as he struggled against them.

"It would make us all feel better," Marcus agreed, "But we're supposed to be saving innocent Digimon, not hurting them."

"That is not an innocent Digimon, that is the Four Dark Masters incarnate!" He tried to break free of his friends' grasp but failed. "Alright, alright!" he put out the fireball and went limp. The others let him go.

"Marcus is correct," Pitmon gasped, breathless after the struggle. "We need to ration our remaining food."

The others agreed. They also agreed, without speaking, to throw Patamon into the cab of the vehicle and close the separator thus trapping him inside. The four Digidestined then began to carefully ration their food and pack their travel bags in silence in the back of the comfortable motor home. But then a horrible thing happened. Even more horrible than having barely enough food, and much more horrible than the thought of putting up with Patamon for another two days. And it happened when Patamon, who had managed open the cab divider, flew into the living area with a look of extreme excitement on his face.

"Guess what!" he exclaimed.

"You're going to put yourself through a blender?" Impmon muttered under his breath. The other three didn't care much that their peace was broken; they had nearly finished packing.

"What?" Tim asked, praying he would not regret asking that question. Patamon shook his head playfully.

"Nooo… You have to guess," the batpig teased. Tim and Pitmon exchanged glances.

"Can you clue us in on what it might be about?" Tim tried. Impmon fell back and groaned in annoyance. Pitmon waited patiently.

"No. No clues, just guess," Patamon smiled, waiting for an answer. Marcus sighed heavily.

"We give up. We don't know," he tried. Patamon whooped and back-flipped; he seemed ecstatic that no one could guess.

"Do you really want to know?" he laughed. Probably not, everyone else thought.

"Yes!" Marcus nearly shouted.

"I released the handbrake and jammed it!" Pitmon, Tim, Marcus, and Impmon just stared in shocked silence, as the annoying little _thing_ delivered his news. Please, God, oh please let it be just a joke, or a random outburst. But then Marcus felt the caravan creep backward ever so slightly. He turned to Pitmon, who often took note of the lay of the land.

"Are we on any kind of slope?" he asked, trying to sound as calm as possible. Pitmon, with wide eyes, simply nodded. He knew that they were on top of a hill that had an easy gradient, but was extremely tall.

The caravan began to pick up speed.

_I promise the next chapter will not be far behind, a week at most. I would love to hear from anyone about this new chapter, let me know what you think. Did it make you laugh? I hope so. Well, until next time._

_R&R._


	9. Valley Exposure

**Digimon: Down Under**

**Valley Exposure **

It was pure luck they all survived the crash. The caravan had bounced down the rocky terrain, at speeds usually only attempted by fighter-jet pilots, its occupants had been thrown around like empty coke cans. They were saved from serious injury by the vast amount of pillows, cushions, and mattresses that were also being tossed around. So when the Digidestined regained consciousness most of them had suffered only cuts and bruises. Pitmon, however, was not so lucky.

Tim picked through the wreckage and was beginning to think that Impmon's idea of eating Patamon alive was not such a bad thought, when he found his digital counterpart lying among a mass of warped metal. Pitmon was breathing short, sharp breaths while clutching his leg just above where an unmistakable shard of bone was poking through his black furred skin.

Tim felt slightly faint at the awful sight, but a sense of urgency overrode his disgust. His friend was in pain and needed help.

"Oh god," Tim breathed. He didn't know what he was looking for when he began to search around him; a phone, a stretcher, a first aid handbook, a paramedic. Damn it! Where was an ambulance when you needed one?

"It's okay, Tim, it's just a broken leg. I'll be fine," Pitmon reassured him through obvious pain. Tim knelt down and held the digimon by the shoulders. He didn't know what else to do. Vaguely remembering that Marcus had completed some sort of first aid course, Tim began calling for his human friend while comforting Pitmon (and himself) at the same time.

Marcus arrived followed by a slightly dazed Impmon who was clutching an empty looking bag that usually held food. Moving Tim out of the way, Marcus examined Pitmon's wound. He explained to Tim that the best thing to do was splint the digimon's leg.

"I need you to find a piece of wood or metal we can use, about the same size as his leg, maybe longer," Marcus instructed. Tim didn't move, he just stared at the injured leg as if it were some sort of monster.

"Tim, move! We don't have much time!" The urgency and authority in Marcus's voice broke the other boy's trance. Without a word Tim turned and began to search through the wreckage for a splint.

It was while hunting for a suitable length of timber that Tim fully appreciated the extent of the damage of the motor home. From what the human could see, the caravan had hurtled straight into a large, black rock at the bottom of valley, tipped over, then skidded about a hundred metres and leaving a filthy gash in the otherwise grassy land. The base and wheels, while now resting on their side, were reasonably intact. The same could not be said for the walls and ceiling which lay strewn about the area in various pieces.

Tim spotted a pile of wood that probably had been a small bed. He located a piece of the debris that looked like it would fit against Pitmon's leg. He grabbed it and, stumbling slightly, hurried back to his friends.

Marcus had fished a doughnut bandage out of one of the many pockets of his scavenged military jacket. He was fitting it around the protruding bone when he asked Pitmon, "Did you tell him where we are?"

Pitmon shook his head.

"We need to get out of this valley fast, before they realise we are here," the ninja replied.

"Whose 'they'?" Tim had caught the end of the brief conversation as he returned with the splint. Marcus took the piece of wood and began to strap it to Pitmon's leg with another bandage.

"Kiwimon. Very territorial, very violent to intruders."

Pitmon nodded weakly in agreement. "We need to hurry."

Tim gazed around the valley and crash sight is annoyed confusion. "But we're not intruding. We crashed here, it's an accident."

"Do you think they care _how_ we got here?" Impmon demanded, rubbing his head. "I dunno what Earth's like, but the Digital World isn't all nice and peaceful towns like Trade Route." He lowered his voice in anger, "It can get violent out here. Really violent. It's an eat or be eaten world. Be the predator or the prey. And buddy," he prodded Tim with gloved finger, "I ain't gonna be the prey."

Marcus smiled and shook his head.

"Don't mind him," he reassured Tim, "he's just annoyed cause there isn't much food left."

"Damn straight," the imp concurred.

"Well anyway," Marcus went on, "We need to get out of this valley fast. They probably already know we're here." He finished the leg splint, then instructed Tim how to carry Pitmon safely by crossing and linking their arms and forming a human chair. Half running half walking, the two humans carried the weight of the injured Digimon towards the nearest hill, Impmon and the deflated food bag in tow.

"If we can get about a third of the way up we should be safe!" Marcus panted. The hills looked a lot steeper from the bottom of the valley.

But the quartet had barely passed the undercarriage of the destroyed caravan when what looked like a wave of green, white and brown came flooding into the valley of the crash site. Impmon swore loudly.

The Kiwimon were not tall, but still imposing. They were round, furry, brown birds, with long legs and a mane of green hair. A smooth bone helmet hid the heads and beaks of each digimon. The eyes burnt with a mindless fury through the holes in the helmet. Tim guessed all twenty of those things wanted to personally use his lungs as bathing sponges. He was right.

"Pummel Peck!" The Kiwimon began to scream randomly. Large projectiles erupted from the birds' mouths and sailed the huge distance between them and the Digidestined.

"Watch it! Get out of the way!" Impmon ordered and began pushing the others behind the tilted base of what remained of the caravan.

Tim risked a glance behind him before taking refuge behind the metal carcass. The projectiles were in fact miniature models of the Kiwimon themselves. Tim thought that was a little funny, but that thought ceased immediately when the minikiwis' began exploding like grenades.

The floor of the caravan rocked worryingly as it was assaulted by the explosions, but it did not give way.

"I'm gonna give 'em about three minutes before they arrive and make guitar strings out of our intestines," Impmon said as he peeked around the undercarriage.

The group flinched as one of the tyres took a direct hit, sending rubber and steel flying dangerously in all directions. Pitmon screamed as hot shrapnel speared into his bad leg. White ooze began to leak slowly and thinly from the roughly bandaged wound.

"What is that stuff?" a trembling Tim asked, shocked and disgusted at the pain his friend was enduring while constant explosions rocked the land around them, making it worse. He wanted to wipe the silvery substance away but he was afraid of touching it. He had never seen anyone hurt so severely before, and he was horrified that bodies, whether human or digimon, could turn against themselves and cause so much pain. Your insides were supposed to stay inside, they shouldn't ever, _ever_ be seen.

"It's blood," Impmon said in disbelief. How could the human be so stupid?

"But it's white." Tim was beginning to slur slightly. He felt sick, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the white of the naked bone, or the pale blood.

"Well what colour d'you expect it to be? Bright red?" Impmon snorted.

Pitmon groaned as a blast of orange above them briefly lit their surroundings. No one had realised just how dark it was getting. The Kiwimon's screams grew louder.

"Digivolve, Tim," rasped Pitmon. "You are stronger than they, you can defeat them!" The remains of the motor home shuddered precariously.

"I'm not going to leave you." The human's eyes flicked from the broken leg to the bright yellow orbs of Impmon's face.

"I'm going to be fine," Impmon said steadily. The bleeding had stopped, and Impmon knew he would have to push the snapped bone back into his body if it was going to heal properly. But Tim just shook his head.

Marcus stepped forward.

"I'll go."

"You can't control the Digivolution," said Impmon sceptically as Marcus pulled off his camo jacket and took the powerful medallion from under his orange shirt.

"I can try. I just need to be strong." The Aborigine thought he had it figured out. To release the power of the Crest of Strength he needed to stand up for what he believed in; fairness, equality, friendship, and never giving up without a fight. He knew it sounded corny, but it was true.

"Are you sure you can take 'em?" Impmon was trying not to let his worry show. In all honesty, he would have preferred for Tim to try and save the day, the situation looked that bleak. There was a loud blast and a dirty hole appeared in the undercarriage next to Impmon's head. The demon coughed and waved dust from his sight. He saw Tim crouching next to Pitmon, trying to shield the wounded digimon from the red-hot bits that the Kiwimon's avian grenades kept sending flying. Impmon turned his head and saw Marcus darting from the safety of the metal barrier to face the oncoming Kiwimon.

"Come back here, you moron!" Impmon called after his friend. The demon thrust the bag of food into Tim's face and growled, "Guard it with your life," before running after the other boy.

Marcus held one hand to his eyes against the heat and light of the explosions while holding his glowing Crest in the other. The distance between the Kiwimon and Marcus rapidly disappeared.

"Come back!"

The human turned to see Impmon grab him by the shirt and try to pull him back to safety, but the imp was launched wildly off his feet as a Kiwi grenade detonated a little to close for comfort.

"Digivolve," Marcus whispered. The Crest erupted with light. Marcus looked at his hands. They were still small and black, still human. He had not Digivolved.

But Impmon had.

Standing twice as tall as before, Mischiefmon was the ultimate incarnation of cool. His skin was still purple but now covered by ripped denim jeans and matching jacket. His red bandanna was now perched atop his head and silver aviator sunglasses covered his green eyes. But what was most curious was the silver canister that seemed to be welded to his back.

Mischiefmon looked himself over, a toothy grin spread itself across his face.

"Somebody get me a mirror!" he said smoothly, his rough voice dripping with vanity. Marcus managed to push aside his amazement to attract the digimon's attention by waving an arm.

"Um, angry killer birds, twelve o' clock."

The freshly digivolved demon ceased checking himself out and looked up just in time to take a pummel peck straight in the chest. Marcus dived back behind the caravan remains.

"You're gonna pay for that!" Mischiefmon screamed pointing a finger in the general direction of his attackers. From his jeans he whipped a thin nozzle that was connected to the silver tank on his back by a pipe. "Blowtorch Bonanza!"

A jet of blue flame burst from the end of the nozzle and roasted the nearest Kiwimon.

"Bullseye, baby!" Mischiefmon cried, pumping a fist into the air in celebration as the bird exploded into data fragments. He took aim at another attacker but was knocked off his feet by yet another bird grenade. The Kiwimon were on top of him before he could even swear, pecking at him viciously with their beaks and hard bone helmets.

Marcus watched in dismay from the hole in the caravan as the birds assaulted his friend. There were just too many of them for Mischiefmon to handle alone. He had to digivolve! The boy fingered the crest and felt its power begin to course through his body. It was time. The crest's light surrounded him. He felt himself grow taller and wider, the proportions of his body becoming squatter and squarer. Muscles the size of soccer balls began to form over his thick bones. Thick, black and white striped fur sprouted all over his skin. Finally, a large, metal cannon and its holster appeared and fixed itself to his back.

Sensaitmon jumped over the top of the caravan remains and punched violently with massively muscular arms at the swarm of Kiwimon. The vicious birds shrieked and scattered at the pummelling they received from the new and powerful opponent.

"You can thank me later," growled Sensaitmon in his deep, bass throb. Mischiefmon got to his feet and dusted himself off.

"What are you talkin' about? I had 'em right where I wanted 'em!"

The remaining Kiwimon had begun another attack run

"Let's finish this."

"I like your thinkin'." Mischiefmon grinned and pulled out his flame thrower wand. Sensaitmon did the same. The two partners levelled their respective weapons at the birds, the distance between the two forces rapidly vanished. Just as the attackers were almost upon them, the two champions pulled their triggers.

"Blowtorch Bonanza!"

"Ice Ball Bazooka!"

The advancing birds were blasted by the onslaught of fire and ice, sending them soaring wildly through the smoke-choked air. Some of the Kiwimon were destroyed, the rest began to retreat understanding that they were no match against those two powerful digimon. As they escaped across the debris-strewn landscape, a jet of fire relentlessly pursued them like a vengeful spirit.

"Ha ha!" Misciefmon screamed with glee, "Where ya going? The party's just getting started!" He began to chase after the survivors, but was caught in Sensaitmon's powerful grip.

"There's no need," the ice monster growled. The demon tried to shake free.

"But I'm just getting warmed up!"

"We are the defenders! Not the other way around. We have defended and won, leave it at that." Sensaitmon was very serious, he was not about to let his friend go on a killing spree. Both digimon stared at each other, but the rebellion faded from Mischiefmon's face.

"Thank you," the gorilla rumbled. "Now let's get the other two to safety."

Carrying Tim and the still injured Pitmon in his massive arms, Sensaitmon followed Mischiefmon up the steep hill and out of the valley. They stopped just outside of the Kiwimon's territory.

"I still reckon we should find the rest of them and whoop 'em," Impmon said loudly. Mishciefmon had returned to his rookie form, and Sensaitmon had become human. He looked over at Marcus who had a stern look on his face. "But I wouldn't want to waste valuable energy and resources, ya know? Namely me." He pointed to himself and grinned superiorly. The others ignored him.

Marcus turned his focus back on Pitmon's leg. He was reluctant to unbandage the serious wound, but he knew that in order for the bone to heal it had to be set back in place. Tim stood behind Marcus with a hand over his mouth. The dark boy frowned.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know what to do," Marcus apologised. Tim looked at the back of the human's head with a slight look of anger. Was he just going to let Pitmon bleed to death?

"As I keep telling you, I will be fine," Pitmon breathed. "I appreciate that the splint was needed to carry me to safety, but now the most helpful thing you can do is unbandage me and simply let me heal."

Marcus nodded in agreement and reluctantly untied the careful knots of the dressing. He had to keep reminding himself that he was treating a digimon, not a human, and first aid was slightly different.

"I can set the bone straight myself," Pitmon went on. "I should be able to walk by morning."

It was nearly a whole minute before Tim's brain processed what his partner had just said. "What do you mean 'by morning?' When I broke my ankle I couldn't walk properly for a whole month."

Marcus almost laughed. "Haven't you realised? Haven't you ever wondered why these two never have a scratch on them?" he indicated the two digimon. Tim shook his head in puzzlement. Marcus explained, "Digimon heal rapidly, I mean _really_ fast. They have to, I guess, otherwise they just don't survive."

Tim checked himself over. He was indeed covered in cuts and bruises, and his school uniform was almost in tatters, whereas Impmon and Pitmon (except for the leg) never seemed to be physically hurt. He wondered about this for a second, but a sickening crack and a scream interrupted his thoughts. Pitmon had yanked on his own foot, pulling the protruding bone down into the correct position and then slipping it beneath the skin. Tim stared, mouth agape, as some of the silvery blood splattered across his cheek. His brain froze in incomparable disgust; he had seen the whole operation.

Pitmon noticed his friend's shock and said apologetically, "Should I have warned you to look away?"

Tim managed to squeak in the affirmative before falling over backwards in a dead faint.

Marcus shook his head in exasperation and moved his unconscious friend into a more comfortable position. He then sat and watched Pitmon's injured leg in mild, clinical interest as the bloody wound slowly healed, the torn skin started to knit back together.

Pitmon noticed the human's observation, and added, "It will take a couple of hours for the bone to completely reconnect."

Marcus nodded absently. He didn't want to think about the future right now. He didn't want to plan where they were going to go next, and how they were going to get there. He certainly did not want to think about the food crisis. He just wanted to sit for a while and not worry or think about anything. So he blankly stared at the ever shrinking hole on the ninja's leg. But then a horrible thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Where's Patamon?" The dastardly rodent had not been seen since the crash.

"Maybe he died in the crash!" Impmon cried dreamily, a look of pure joy spread across his face at the idea. But their joy and hopefulness was to be short lived. There came a faint rustling as something stirred from within the food duffel that Impmon had been dragging around. The bag began to twitch. Impmon's eyes widened in fear.

"No. Please, no," the demon whimpered, "For the sake of all that is holy, no."

The bag burst open, releasing the smiling face of Patamon, happily chomping away on the carefully rationed food. Marcus fell onto his back and groaned. It was official; the luck of the Digidestined had just hit rock bottom. Impmon just stared, his left eye twitching.

Patamon swallowed, belched loudly, and giggled. Looking around, he beamed as he recognised the faces from the morning, in the wheely house.

"That roller coaster was lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of fun! Let's find another one and not do it again."

Impmon slowly and stiffly stood in front of the tiny digimon.

"Okay," he said in an almost strangled voice, "But first we'll play another game." He smiled maniacally and ignited a fireball in each of his palms. "We're gonna play 'Impmon gets to kill the satanic weasel'."

Patamon's smile grew even bigger.

"Wow! That sounds like lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of fun! But first you've got to catch me," he squealed in joy as he leapt from the bag and began to fly. Impmon did not hesitate to chase the overgrown rat.

"Get back here you mutant booger!" the imp screamed as he pursued Patamon around the hill. "I'm gonna cut you open and tie you up with your own intestines! And then I'm gonna chop you into little pieces and jump up and down until you turn to dust! And then I'm gonna boil up the dust until you evaporate! And then I'll wait until its rains! And then I'm gonna…!"

Marcus closed his eyes and thought how lucky Tim was to be unconscious right now. Impmon's rapidly elevating death threats would have been amusing, had the fact that no food remained being the reason for his murderous ranting. But he chose to lie there for the time being, and wait for the two dynamic digimon to wear themselves out. He glanced to where Tim and Pitmon lay. Tim was still unconscious and it looked as though Pitmon had miraculously fallen asleep despite the pain in his leg and the racket between Patamon and Impmon. Again, Marcus closed his eyes. This time he could hear Patamon.

"Round and round the grassy hill, the Impmon chased the cute thing," Patamon sang, "They climbed a tree that wasn't there…"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" screamed Impmon. "When we find a tree I'm gonna cram it horizontally up your-"

Marcus put his hands over his ears to drown out the profanities, and sighed. The Digital World certainly had its moments, and this was definitely not one of them.

1010101

Movement in the darkness. A stirring of ancient dust. The dank and musty smell of old. Black energy crackled above. The Shadow watched the four Digidestined in abject silence.

All four have discovered the power of the crests. All four have digivolved to champion level. Let them come.

The pale, white eyes studied his magnificent machines.

They are no match, thought the Shadow in consolation. What they have achieved so far is nothing, barely a thorn in my side.

Chains clanked as the nameless evil strode amongst his creations, caressing them, until he came to the heart of the structure and stopped. He gazed upon the black gear, the dark manifestation of his own body and soul that powered his creations. Soon he would be whole again.

Let them come.

_Hope that was as much fun to read as it was to write. Dont' forget to review guys! Cya soon._


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